Ancient Waters
by 5thera
Summary: My friend and I are in the process of creating our own Elder Scrolls story, taking place in the 5th era, with new, unique lore and characters. We hope you enjoy and leave comments. We will be adding chapters biweekly and eventually we will be taking suggestions from readers for characters and for paths the characters can will take. Many thanks to our technical editor aaron.dumas.3.
1. Chapter 1

They stood in line, all of them, in their modest ashen colored robes. Among them were two small boys holding a box. They stood among the silent, unwavering Moth Priests, holding the box in their pale, small fingers. It had been a time of silence for more than a week, and the preparations for the ritual had begun not long after the young, new Emperor was crowned. It was, undoubtedly, a time of change.

Among the elder priests was a younger, fifty-six to be exact. Durlus was his name but he had not spoken it since he had come to the priesthood. When he approached the young boys they bowed as they lowered the box. The eldest priest approached as well from the opposite direction, blinded by his years of reading, but the moths guided him as the ritual continued under the shade of a great sturdy tree that towered over the cliff it was rooted to. Once the intricate box was lowered the elder Moth priest took from it the glistening and godly Elder Scroll. A moth crawled along the back of his hand as he raised it and gave it over to Durlus. The moth's wings fluttered as Durlus took the scroll in his hand.

With careful hands he opened the scroll and gazed into it. His mind rushed and as he journeyed through divine consciousness he felt his mind expand and constrict, pain enveloped him and the weight of his own mortality was upon him when suddenly he felt stillness, and the breath of Kynareth was upon his neck. A gentle whisper in a trial of suffering, but the peace was not long lasting. The image of gossamer and green shattered and he was drawn away to a place where he saw before him a sea shore.

On the beach stood three figures, their skin bore the marvelous blues and greens of the sea, pale was it and nearly translucent in his image. They seemed to glisten as he watched through the lens of the scroll. One was svelte with wry lips and black, empty eyes. Her shimmering armor hugged her lean figure and in her hand was a staff of glistening gold and ivory. Opposite to her was another woman, glistening too, and in her arms was a hammer made of bone. Her eyes were black as well, and colder still. Between them stood a mighty figure, his height nearly dwarfed the others. His beard was long and flowed like waves; it was the color of ocean spray. Upon his head was a crown, and he wore it with pride. He was Orgnum, the Moarmer wizard king.

As they stood on the shore Durlus saw through the scroll two boats approaching, one rugged and squat, the other long and elegant. The first rested at the shore and from it came an Argonian, spikes lined his head and he looked around before stepping onto the shore. Following him was a pitiable, fat little Sload, with slimy black skin that shone like oil, and she was wheeling a box on a carriage down from the ship. From the fairer boat came two tanned skinned humans wearing intricate armor.

The wizard king approached, his colossal form was dangerous but elegant, "You've come to my invitation," he said in a voice as strong as a sea's current, "all for one reason." He paused a moment, eying the cart before speaking again, "Finally, I have found a way to reclaim our honor, and take what is ours."

He approached the Sload and looked down at the saddening creature. He pointed an electrified finger at the lock and blasted it off, then stood before the coffin with the Sload. The accompanying figures looked on as the Sload and the wizard king began the incantation.

Ancient Gilded Lord in slumber

Awaken from thy shameful tomb

Reborn now, call forth the seas

And bring forth the tides of doom

Golden light burst from the shabby coffin and splintered the woods. The Sload shielded her pathetic, watery eyes, but Orgnum stood strong. The gilded corpse shuddered as air filled his dusty lungs for the first time in eras. His beard had grown down to his chest and his eyes had turned to dust, but now his sockets were filled with a golden glow.

The immortal wizard king spoke in a proud voice, "Old friend Ragaz, tell us, how is it that we can reclaim Tamriel?" The corpse rose slow, creaking and popping of leathery flesh and weathered bone was heard, and the ancient corpse spoke in his near forgotten language. Orgnum smiled a sinister smile and turned to the Argonian and the armor-clad Akaviri, "my _friends_, now we have the means. Master Ragaz will point the way to the schematics to the powerful pump we will use to flood the Summerset Isles, and whoever else stands in our way of rule! Tamriel shall be ours!"

For a moment there was an air of silence, and then the Argonian and the Akaviri gave cheers. The low, airy voice of the Argonian was cocky, "We stand with you, and Argonia will be strong again." The Akaviri nodded, "You have our allegiance."

Bright light filled Durlus's eyes and he dropped the scroll. Into the grass it fell softly and the light went out like that of a candle's flame blown away, "_By the Nine_."

_We have watch for so long, my brethren and me, but as we watch I have come to question it. I, brother Durlus of the Moth priests, sit wondering how our empire has come to such ruin; an Empire that held eight glorious lands and many brilliant and intriguing peoples. Despite my love of these places and their people, I still feel doubt and confusion. My vision has left me desolate and fearing. Is mortal life doomed to always fail, are we nothing but the divine's pawns and the Daedra's play toys? Could the elves be right in their standing of how pathetic and brief the life of mortal man is? And why then is it so? _

_No, I refuse to believe it and I never will, but still what I have seen in that scroll can never be unseen. We are losing. Not just the Empire, but Tamriel itself is on the verge of collapse. I sit in my corridor as my vision fails, wondering of the events forming. The Empire and The Aldmeri Dominion both sticking claims to Elsweyr and its populace. I pray to Kynareth they will survive that onslaught. What of the Nords of Skyrim, now in yet another civil war for the seat of High King? The third to come, still these people have no claims to peace, and they only hang onto the Empire by a thin thread. _

_To the east it is still unease as Morrowind must take up arms against Black Marsh, though Black Marsh itself is facing its own unjust rebellion. The people there are torn, fuelled by a maddening rage instilled in them by a tyrant; their only other option is their weak and dying ruler. I pray no war will come, but their peaceful leader is at the end of his life. _

_To the west, High Rock has become a fuming pot of hierarchies fight for dominance. The Orcs are facing small skirmishes and even famine in the mountains. The small peace treaty between Hammerfell and the Aldmeri is doomed to fail. Now the treaty of the White Gold Concordat is slowly burning away. The elves are losing power and they know it as they cause open wars now. _

_Akatosh, I question this land and its future, but now… after what I've have seen in that scroll all those months ago I can't help but feel how pointless all this fighting is now. The Empire is weak and it needs to strengthen. Is this new Emperor the ruler we need on the Ruby Throne, or do the Aedra have better plans for us? Or perhaps the Daedra and Oblivion are what awaits Tamriel. I feel ashamed of myself for not telling the elder, but my time is soon approaching, I know it. Still, what I have not told him is... I saw a vision... I saw a face... no! Many faces, nine faces, all of them, and they stood over Tamriel and the lands beyond as the fires that these two lands are blazing begin to be extinguished. _

_Are these the nine divines, are the Aedra going to save us all? Or maybe the Knights of the Nine, cryptically symbolized in my vision, returning to defend Tamriel. No… they feel close, much closer. As I am sitting in my dark chambers I see now that my body is trembling. Darkness takes my vision yet again. I know whoever these people are... they are our only hope... or our death sentence._


	2. Chapter 2

Darkness engulfed her vision. Two pairs of arms held her up on both sides of her. Her feet were limp and bleeding as they dragged her against the cold floor. Her ragged, torn clothes reeked of salt water. Her skin was speckled with red marks from the sand and where the guards gripped her arms was reddish too. Her head spun; even in the darkness she could feel the movement, the swinging vertigo, as they carried her along through the cold halls.

Her vision slowly returned. Shady at first until her eyes could focus. The blur of the crusty salt clinging to her lashes made her squint, she could barely see, but enough so that through the tears she could identify a few colors and shapes. As her limp, pain wracked body was carried along she could see blues and whites, grays, speckled colors that didn't really belong anywhere. She sucked in a deep breath and tried harder to see.

The place seemed untouched by the elements, as if the walls reached up into the skies and split the clouds. It was a port city; she could still hear the waves. Her eyes darted up and then she took blurry glances at the two soldiers, both dressed in golden armor. It shone though there was no sunlight cast upon it. Elegant were their features, unbound from their helmets in a way, the human stared at them for a long time, in wonderment, and in confusion. Her heart sank as a horrid and daunting realization came to her; her captors carrying her across the halls were elves.

The young Breton blinked, tears from the salt water still streaming down her face, but as her vision cleared so too did her memories. As the Thalmor guards gripped her arms she began to stumble along on her bleeding, welted feet. The lovely hall of the fort was replaced with a grey and old stairway leading up. The Breton girl was in the hands of foreigners now, guards of the Aldmeri Dominion, an enemy more so than any Dragon or any Dremora.

"Integrator Belaer, we have another prisoner for you. This one was illegally crossing the board of the filth of Cyrodiil into the graces of Valenwood." The one to the left spoke. It was chilled with the thick Altmer accent, the voice of the nobility that was laden with pride. This integrator, Belaer, had a long, sleek Thalmor robes. His hair was white and his eyes were a flat, lifeless yellow-brass color. He seemed young by his mannerisms, his carelessness and his lack of responsibility (which could only be assumed by the unkempt stack of papers on his desk) but his features were well hidden under his hood as his eyes sparkle with something sinister, something inhuman. A look only a predator and can give its prey. She was place on a hard wooden chair.

"You two may leave." He spoke. It was slow and calm voice this time that sent a shiver of unnerved paranoia up her spine. Her neighbors had warned her of these elves, all she could remember was the squawking of the woodsman's wife: how disgusting they were, their tactics of torture and the way they could break a man's spirit. It was terrifying.

"So you tried to cross our boarder? No surprise that Breton like you would want to escape that coal pit Empire and escape to Valenwood." He pauses and sighed, as though he actually did have some feeling of pity for her. It didn't extend beyond pity though, his sigh was as cold as the distaste in his eyes "I'm sorry to tell you this, but crossing is illegal without proper documentation, which you do not have."

He stood and he slowly moved towards her. Each step crack against the tiles as his eyes never lifted off of hers. He was sizing her up and as far as she could tell he like the odds that were stack in his favor. Swiftly he brought her away, his captive was mute with the shock of it all. The air was thick with the suffering moans of the damned prisoners that the Altmer had captured, and successively tortured. This fort had suffering built into it, and not even the graces of Mara could reach out in here.

It was Fort Valdire, the oceanfront fort of Valenwood, with a port that held up to eight Aldmeri battle galleons. It also was filled with up to two thousand Thalmor soldiers, all ready for naval or land battle. As they walked along, she could hear the marching, and she could almost hear her beloved seas. The walk seemed to go on forever, as the interrogator rambled about the fort's glorious history.

The fort sat near the line that connected Valenwood to Cyrodiil, on the western coast in the north of Valenwood. It housed one of the biggest armories in Valenwood and was one of the most well defended forts. The fort had held its ground and successfully withdrew and stopped three invasions in its time. The first and second being attacks from Hammerfell, and the third time by the Empire in the Great War. Many in the Thalmor believe this place was unshakable. Sieging ti was also a impossibility with a food storage that could keep this fort fed for a year made it a tactically sound control point.

Belaer sat the girl down in yet another room; this one was far darker, far colder.

"Now shall we begin with the first part of the interrogation? I always..."

A harsh knock rang from the door.

"For Auriel's Sake... what do you want? I'm in the middle of entertaining a guest."

"I'm sorry my lord, we've received important news. The commander asked me to get you directly." That was no Altmer's snooty accent. She knew that dialect. Certainly it was orcish, but that made no sense. She reassured herself that she was just hallucinating. Her head was pounding, after all.

"By the Eight," he paused and then huffed another sigh, "Fine Shogor, lead the way."

He stood and pushed past his prisoner, and then he opened the door and approached the hooded figure.

"Tell me what the situation is as we walk..." Belaer glanced back for a moment, then called out in his haughty, immature tone, "Guards, take this filth back to her cell I will deal with her later." With that the two left without another word, the heels of their expensive boots clacking down the hall.

Again she was seized and moved, then flung into a cell as she hit the ground she coughed hard from hitting her ribs, a fluid heavy cough from the damp air, she spat angrily, "Elven bastards."

Dark salt water puddles stretched along the stony floor behind the bars of the prison cell. The iron bars were rusted slightly and the air there was cold enough for the breath to be seen. As if the Thalmor wanted every unfortunate soul who arrived to suffer every second. She remembered her aunt, speaking of the Imperial Prison, and how luxurious it seemed to her now compared to the agony she felt now. Slowly she crawled over and sat in a somewhat dry corner. For a moment she stared and her thoughts drifted off.

In here no laws protected you, no one could give a damn if you lived or died and no one would lift a finger to help you. Information was as valuable as blood in the veins, and without it there was no more a chance of for living.

"Well, well, what do we have here- new meat?" A voice spoke through the darkness; it was firm but had a rasp to it. It was a voice of a Bosmer, an elf of the forest, a native to this land. "I see that the Thalmor have captured you too." The elf indicated to the red marks on her arm, slowly he crouched down. He stank, but twice as bad as she did. The Breton nearly retched at his approach and she quickly turned her head away from him.

"Oh, I see your one of those Bretons… aren't you a half-mer or something? Knowing the Thalmor, you're more disgusting than a heretic that believes in Talos to them! Haha. too bad that a pretty face like you must be forgotten in such a horrid place like Valdire." She could hear the smirk on his face as his chapped lips stretched and the sticky, smelly film over his unbrushed teeth made a wet, soft snapping kind of sound as a bubble of mucusy saliva popped. He savored her suffering to relieve his own.

The Breton took a second to rethink how she had gotten into this situation in the first place while she avoided the scuzzy cellmate beside her. Her hair was loose now without the cord that often tied it back, falling down to her lower back. It was heavy still and frizzy from the salt water, it was a chestnut brown but appeared almost black from how damp it was and how dark her corner of the cell was. Her green-blue eyes scanned the six by six cage. She sat back now, remembering how her boat carelessly crossed the border of the Aldmeri Dominion. She thought herself a fool for ever thinking she could cross the border without being caught.

She yearned for the sea and it's uplifting breeze against her skin and its taste on her lips, what she and her father considers the taste of freedom. As the waves would crash to the side of their boat as it cruised across the sea, nobody but she, her father and the sea to decide their fates; but there was no uplifting breeze, nor rocking arms of the mother sea. The air here tasted of desperation, and the only sounds were scuffles.

"You look rather miserable, my Breton friend." He paused, reclining now from a crouched position to sitting with his knees bent and near his chest, "Here, how about we introduce each other, I'm Mori and you are…?"

The seadog's head moved back and up slightly. She stared into the darkness knowing past that hid the Bosmer who wished for her speak. She could not see him though the darkness, again she tried by squinting but she could not see. The elf's keen eyes fixated on her, "Come on, tell me, what do you really have to lose by just telling me your name?"

"I'm Juliet."

"Ah, what an interesting name for a Breton! Sounds more Imperial to me but, hey, who am I to say? I'm just a poor, shabby Bosmer locked away in Fort Valdire like everyone else down here. Isn't that sad?" Mori mocked, she heard him pat his hands down, as though to affirm that yes, indeed it was rather sad, despite his sarcastic inflection.

Then the door at the end of the hallway drew open swiftly and the darkness was sliced through like a sword through the flesh. As the light poured down the stony hall the jail birds turned their heads, excepting those at the end who had not seen any light for years or more. Down the hall clacking echoed, two pairs of footsteps, elegant and determined in their gait, came striding down the hall. Mori cringed back into the reaches of his cell; the aloof Bosmer seemed to die and was quickly replaced by a shivering mouse as soon at the sight of the fine edged, gold trimmed cloaks of the Thalmor shimmered in the hall. Coming their way was the terrible Interrogator Belaer and the orc who dress as a Thalmor. Juliet recalled his name; she believed it to be Shogor.

Belaer stopped exactly at her cell. The atmosphere around her shriveled as his stern metallic eyes gazed upon her. His eyes were like a court room and his pupil the judge, as if he had already decided her fate. His expression alone made her feel guilty. He was standing straight and his face never broke from this firm expression.

In his hand was a black leather journal that appeared as trimmed as he did. His minion stood to his side; for an orc he was quite handsome, his features were ruggedly masculine but far less twisted and tribal than his ancestors in the cold reaches of the Dragon Mountains. He was a product of "finer breeding".

"Shogor, tell the Ambassador it nothing to worry about. Those fools won't try to take Valdire." His voice relaxed slightly, as though he was pleased with something, "and besides, the Rihad treaty has made sure the Redguard won't dare attack us again." He scoffed a bit of a laugh and scanned his journal, repeatedly raising his eyes to glance at her.

"Milord, if they attack we will have to pull regiments out of Elsweyr." Shogor warned his proprietor.

"Traitor! How does it feel Orsimer? Do you even feel anything, betraying your people for the Thalmor—coward!" Mori leered as the powerful orc didn't flinch at the insult. In fact the rugged, green-skinned Thalmor seem to blankly ignored the Bosmer and turn to Belaer once more.

"Let's go Shogor; we've got what I needed." He called for the orc as though he were a dog, and with a final glance at the cell, the two drew their clacking footsteps away. The door slammed shut. Darkness pervaded the cells once more.

That is when it began: three days, three dull, starving days passed as they left her and Mori together in the cells with barely any food or water to satisfy either of them. The only relief from this accursed nightmare was a small bar window in the back of their room that she would find herself putting her face on to feel and smell the cool sea that danced and sprang up against the shore not so far below.

Her dulled sea foamy eyes gazed out of that teasing window as the waves crash just below then recoiled back out into the graying blue. Mori, to Juliet's surprise, had remained quiet, with only a few snide comments here and there. She was tired here, the fear of this cell being the perimeters of her future crept into her mind and weighed on her like a hoarker on her back. The weight exhausted her. But for standing on her toes to see the sea she barely moved.

The ocean was calm on the dawn of the fourth day, morning came as the sun stretched its way up, but a small disturbance broke Juliet's visions of the sea as she stared outside. She squinted hard as she stood on tip toe, to assure herself that this shape surfacing was not real, but in fact it was. At first she thought it to merely be a whale, and while that was not an impossibility, she did find it strange for it to come so close to the shore. The mysterious form moved in an unnatural fashion. It started to rise higher and higher and Juliet craned her neck back to look up through her tiny window. It was quite obvious now that it was not a whale, it arose and sea water poured down from it with a heavy cranking sound, and the vessel creaked as it bulging form rose up. It became a ship before her eyes, rising from the waters. Massive was it, with a bluish and green tint to its form. Higher and higher it grew and before her eyes grayish sails blossomed and caught the wind despite having just been submerged. Her eyes glowed with wonder, her mouth was agape.

The ship was curved and the bottom of the ship was fishlike. Then a horrifying sound was heard as the sound of cannon balls fired off from that vessel slamming into the side of Valdire. Quickly she cupped her ears and stumbled back. She squinted through the darkness out into the little square of light and her breath stopped for a moment. Despite Belaer's pride it had happened, Belaer was hunger attack.

The cannonballs were not the normal round, black balls of iron, rather what she had seen looked almost greenish with sleight curves, and cupped around each was an arcane aura. As she cupped her ears she could still hear it, each cannonball exploded on impact. The four ships at dock that were restocking didn't stand a chance. The singular vessel completely destroyed the four Aldmeri galleons before Juliet could even blink. As the first fires were shot the attacking vessels sail was sunk back into the hull of it as the ship submerge back into the depths of the ocean. Elven guards and sailors were yelling orders in an Ayleid tongue as they ran into different battle situations. The fort was barely standing, and their attacker was slipping away.

"Where did it go? Did we sink it?" Every elf was beyond confused as guards, sailors, and all other types at the docks were staring, waiting for the Thalmor to act. Mori and Juliet being in a tower were trapped. The prisoners were struck with fear, of the prison tower falling by this barrage, or whatever other ill fate could occur. Then, to the southern side of the fort, the attackers arose again it bombarded yet again, crippling the southern wall. The sounds of crumbling bricks were heard as the middle section of the wall collapsed falling into the depths of the ocean below.

Coming from the horizon, like the morning fog rising, dark storm clouds were accumulating over the sea. Lightning struck violet on the darkening horizon and it clawed ever closer until blasts of lighting struck the shore. The air itself seemed to turn to a war zone as the clouds now covered the sun from the entire fort and the lightning struck from above. The cannon fire slammed into the upper parts of the fort, now destroying the offensive catapults and cannons almost instantly. Fort Valdire, a marvel of Elven power against the forces of man, now nothing more than a beaten dog waiting for it final strike.

Juliet watched, her eyes unwavering. Never in her life had she witnessed so much carnage. Then it came for her too, a cannonball tore a ring through the smoke and heaved for the cell. She lunged out of the way as the arcane powered ball blew off the wall leading to the outside. Rubble slammed into the iron, breaking down her and Mori's cell doors. The attacking vessel sank once more beneath the waves once more.

"Oh, by Mara's embrace we have been freed!" Mori cried as joy filled his face. Finally he too could taste the freedom. Juliet stood quickly after her quick recovery from the shock of the blast. Her eyes danced around the wreckage, everything was in a whirl as she saw her Bosmer cellmate retreating down the hall and to the staircase that she was dragged along only three days prior.

"Whoever these attackers are they must have been sent by the divines to save us." The Bosmer cheered, if only he knew. The Breton and Bosmer went through the door and were met by a breaking stairwell and several fallen Thalmor. Much to Juliet's disappointment Belaer or his orc helper were not amongst the dead.

They descend the dark stairwell but found themselves at a twenty step break and a deep, wide pit, that meant death for anyone who dared jump it, so Juliet thought.

"Curses," Mori sneered, as the frustrated and fearful Juliet could see more clearly, and think more clearly now that the ringing in her ears had stopped. "This place is going to collapse." Juliet muttered as her vision reeled across the stairwell. Her heart sank. There was no hope.

"After you, milady" Mori gave her a grin before she felt his grimy hands grab her and toss her across. She gave a yelp before hitting the ground on the other side. Quickly she turned, "Mori-!" She exclaimed, but not before he two leapt across and left her in shock, mouth half opened. She wondered if he was some sort of acrobat, or if Bosmer were all born with springs in their feet. He slipped his fingers under her chin and shut her mouth for her, "There, alrighty then, time to get a move on," He spun her around. They began once more to hurry as more stairs began to crumble.

The cannon fire still rained on the fort, unrelenting as it smashed through the internal wall of the once proud Aldmeri fort. They hissed through the air as the fort was collapsing and quivering upon its very foundation.

Gruffly he pushed her down, she groaned when she hit the floor but saw that he had saved her from incoming debris, "Bastard," she coughed a little as she stood and he smiled, "Come on girl, I wasn't all that rough," Juliet smiled, she assumed this meant they were friends know. His words echoed as her head spun while the building shook. She was forgetting something, something important, but what? She couldn't recall and it didn't matter now, survival mattered.

They both ran down the flight of stairs as the tower was now in a full-fledged collapse. There was no going back as the tower fell in on itself then lurched back into the court yard, crushing the warriors gathering up a single ship destroy at least one quarter of this fort men power. Elves were yelling out orders as the duo made it to the second floor of the Altmer's stronghold.

"It's what these monster deserve" Mori sneered as he look at the Altmer crying out as they were trying to get their defensive back up, but was futile towards the war ships superior fire power and surprise attack. "Get the rest of the supplies," A womer's voice echoed as Thalmor ran across as she got some of the fallen men up screeching at them sternly. That word supplies was simple and what she saw meant nothing to her, but it click in her head then what Juliet needed from the Elves.

"We need to get my supplies!" Juliet's words left her mouth as she turn to Mori.

"Are you crazy? I'm not..." Was all he could say before he found himself on the very edge of the jagged balcony they had paused upon.

"You help me or you be taking a swim." She warned. Genuinely she did not wish to hurt him, but the only way to get the chicken to listen was by force. Mori shrunk back as the coward she saw back in the prison resurfaced with trembles and darting glances back and forth. He nodded, mouth open, silently begging her not to push him, he could not form words. He was in surprise. Her clenching hands drew him forward and she released him.

"Where do they keep contraband?"

He looked eager "Oh, that's one easy milady! It is in the warden's office- only a few halls down from here, a- and don't worry! We should be fine with everyone is dealing with that ship outside." The Bosmer spoke as though he knew what he was doing. Juliet furrowed her brows, he was a strange elf, seeming to know more than he was letting on, but she dropped the thought. The only thing she really wanted back was her gear so she could get away from this place.

The two of them climbed down the rubble towards a now-decrepit hall. The doors they found were made of a fine hard wood from the Summerset Isles, beautifully crafted. They were some of the best the High Elves had to offer. The door was locked, and there was no way she could break it down despite her trying. Her lock picking skills could be considered embarrassing at best.

"Stand aside, my dear Breton, I have this one," Mori exclaimed with pride, and barely a minute passed before he nearly conked her in the head by swinging the doors open. She looked up at him, unsure how much more head trauma she could withstand. Mori gave her a bow, and in his mocking tone he teased and gave another chap-lipped grin, "After you, Juliet."

She paused a moment, squinting at him, "Thanks." She supposed he wasn't completely useless; in fact he seemed to become more and more useful as time passed. Despite his cowardice, she accepted him. He was all she had in this place, after all. He hurried into the warden's office then knelt down and began to work on the expert lock to the chest holding their gear. As Mori worked she couldn't help but glance outside and see the Thalmor mages firing their fire bolts and fireballs at the attacking ship. Her eyes fixated. Magic up close was every easy to see but it took years to learn. The way the Elves moved as the fire, the electricity and the frost moved, it was mesmerizing, like a beautiful dance. She didn't use magic, never in her life had she even learned a simple flame or healing, but that Breton instincts of her elven blood drew it to her.

"Woo!" Mori exclaimed once he lock fell, he turn quickly to tell Juliet but his first sight was a Thalmor guard entering the room to retrieve the chest. The guard went straight for Mori, underestimating small Juliet, who cleaved off her head with her father's sword from the chest before the guard could even approach. Mori blinked, and then grabbed his stuff, making sure Juliet saw nothing. He didn't as about hers either, so they would be even in their secrecies.

They ran through the fort, clutching their things. Finally upon reaching a door leading to the outside they went through and then found themselves on the wall of the fort that hadn't fallen yet, but was coming close. As she searched with Mori for an escape she noticed the soldiers there had stayed, she thought to herself that any reasonable Imperial would have fled when the odds dropped so far beloe favorable, but then she realized they would rather die here than face whatever punishments returning home had to offer.

Mori shook his hand out and pointed, "There!" He hissed, seeing a wooden stair within sprinting distance.

A few voices called out from behind them, but they were barely audible above the sounds of battle and of the raging storm and the roaring sea. They ran excitedly, so close to escaping, towards the stairs. Half across and they heard a blast, as though the Divines themselves wished for the two "criminals" to fail, the cannons ripped through the wall in front of them, making a massive gap between then and the stairs. Juliet stared, "Tell me you can jump that…"

"By the eight, no- now what?" His voice was heavy, fearing, as they heard clacking footsteps behind them and as they both turn none other than Integrator Belaer stood behind them. He had a darkened expression on his face as his hands sparked with electricity. His eyes narrowed for a killer glare.

"My fort is in ruins, my soldiers are being slaughtered, and through all this destruction I happen to find my prisoners alive and well." As the words left his mouth hatred crackled on his breath. His first lightning bolt struck Juliet across the chest as she cried out in pain. His body spun around in the elegant arcane dance that Juliet had admired, and with his second bolt he struck Mori's stomach, making him fall over. He then started to walk forward, closer, his metallic eyes focusing with intent as electricity bounced off his long, wry fingers, shooting twice more at the same time missing on purposes making both of them cringe.

His eyes burned with fury, again he shocked them, and they both yelped, Mori held his wounds and Juliet grinded her teeth. The pain shot through both of their bodies as the interrogator approach, then stood right before them he was grinning. No longer did he care if he put himself in danger. He had suffered, so they shall suffer. Perhaps the Divines pitied them at that moment, but there and then another cannonball hit the wall, shaking the Belaer and weakening his balance, distracting him from his violent goal. Juliet stood quickly and punched him hard, and so the interrogator fell to the depths.

"Good job Breton, now..." he spoke as he looked down to the road leading to the forest, "We must jump." He spoke like it was it was an everyday thing, jumping off high walls during the middle of naval attacks.

"Mori, seriously, t—," and for the second time, and not the last time this day, he chucked her. As she hit the ground it hurt as her leg felt like they were numb and her stomach was on the verge of tossing up all of the scraps she had had in the past half of the week. Mori was besides her helping her run through the forest. The jump barely affected him, he glanced back and ran faster, and tugging her along as Thalmor cries of protest were unheard over the blasts and the crumbling wreckage. They ran into the forest as the sun began to set.

Night began to fall as they went in the through the forest. She was mad at the elf for his irritating manor and for his cowardice, but she was grateful for everything he had done for her. He looked away a moment and said quietly, "Thank you, I suppose, for back." Mori look at her and he smiled to her, "No problem."

They walk as the night crept in; the noises in the forest were haunting, and Valenwood's forest lived up to the reputation of it being overgrown and full of wilds. It terrified Juliet, her whole life she had never felt so paranoid, and she kept her eyes peeled as they walked along in their rags. For a moment they rested together under a tree and complained together about hunger. They stood not long after, agreeing that they would have to walk it off.

As they went through the forest, after merely wandering through it and searching for food, morning was coming in a few hours and both the two escapees were stumbling along. Half asleep, Juliet caught her leg on a root. Mori stared with eyelids half open as she tumbled down a hill, which led out of the woods and onto a dirt road. Her face landed at the edge of someone's boot.

"Juliet, are you ok?" Mori asked before sliding down the small hill, but stop dead in his tracks as his eyes widened. Juliet looked up at the robed figure as she gawked at the horrible golden eyes of another old Altmer. A vision flashed though her mind as she remembered the Integrator torturing her and Mori side by side. She stood quick, backing up as her back press to Mori's chest. The old Altmer stared, he had wrinkles along his mouth and his jaw, and in his hood she could see his white with grayish streaks in his hair, and gray on his facial hair two, he was quite tall like most Altmer, and carried two glass scimitars.

He took another step, taking out a small folded paper, most likely a scroll that could destroy them both Mori though, and so, for the third and final time that day, Mori shoved Juliet into the chest of the Altmer, trading her off for his own life, he then sprinted off into the darkness and book it into the night. She thought to herself that, were she to escape this Altmer, she would most definitely give Mori a good stab in the face or abandoning her.

She stared at the Altmer and she got into a battle stance, ready for this mer. She would rather die than go back there to that fort, that may or may not still be there. That paper, she saw now, he had he open it. She was preparing for a magic attack, she she had yet to remove her shield from her backpack of retrieved things, there was no time, she had her sword and that's what she was stuck with. What she wasn't expecting was him writing in it and showing it to her.

_Are you alright?_

She stood, blankly staring at it before looking back up at him with a questioning look, "Yes... thanks." She paused a moment, feeling tense, "Are you gonna hurt me? Do you work for the Thalmor?" The Altmer's face contorted into an expression of absolute disgust, his mouth turn into a glower as he wrote again.

_No child I'm just a traveler and mean you no harm. I have no contact with that dictatorial group._

"Who are you and why are you writi... wait. Are you…"

He nodded as his hands touched his throat, his mouth moved but no sound followed, then he lifted his hand back and pointed to show her a small scar across his neck. He was a mute. He wrote his name.

_ Emero._

He pointed to the sign posting the direction to Cyrodiil, telling her that was where he was heading. "May I come with you?" He simply nodded to her. She did not fully trust him either, plenty of backstabbing had gone on as of recent, but she didn't see herself facing much of a choice.

They walk mostly in silence. He seem to be thinking as she was looking at him, wondering what was going through the older elf's head hoping, it wasn't anything to do with her.

"You must pay a toll you two. Two hundred and fifty septims" A voice came from the forest, scaring both the mer and woman, they looked around as more than half a dozen bandits walk out of the forest, all grinning at them, predatory in the way they skulked forwards. Mostly they were humans, accompanied by a single Argonian. All were armed and armored with furs.

This matter was bad, both travelers lacked the necessary payment even with their combined funs, but to make matters worse more footsteps were coming Emero suspected more bandits, they often had help sneaking out to catch their prey by surprise, but what they saw approaching was much worse. Two Thalmor were walking up, one in robes, the other in armor, both were tired a seemed to have also been part of the battle at Valdire. The one in robes, he stood tall and he seem to be in no hurry. The armored one was most likely his bodyguard, she was glaring at everyone.

The bandits seem wary as they should be, but the robe figure eyes grew wide as he stare at the Breton. "You are that one that killed the Integrator!" He exclaimed. Juliet furrowed up her brows, how could he have known lest he had watched? She pondered briefly, but as usual it just wasn't the time for pondering. A foolish bandit took a step forward, he was the one who spoke to them, "Hey, you two can fight after you pay the..." He got no further, turn into dust by a lightning bolt out of the wizard's hand.

As soon he was killed, Emero and Juliet found themselves in the middle as the bandits attacked and the Thalmor charged. Emero drew both of his scimitars quickly as Juliet got behind him and retrieved her sword and shield while the two sides clashed. Emero was quick as he took off a Redguard bandit's head instantly, and then started to clash with the Argonian. Juliet found herself blocking with her shield from a bandit's fire bolts. The Thalmor were dueling with the others, and much to the duo's luck, the bandits seem to see the Thalmor more of a danger than them. The Altmer made a mistake as she got too close to Juliet as she lunged with her shield forward as her blade went through her neck killing the Bandit. She looks over seeing Emero having issues as the Argonian was quick on his feet.

The Breton ran at the Argonian, her blade sliced through his back. He was unprepared for that strike. Emero saw his chance remove both of the lizard's arms before kicking him to the ground. An Imperial, seeing his comrades die, charged Emero and tackled him from the side into the rocky, dusty road.

The bandit slashed at Juliet, his sword clashed against her sword. He walk towards her. But not for long, fire engulfed him. Emero's scimitars were sheathed now as fire spouted from his palms. Juliet finished him was a stab into his chest. She withdrew her blade and frowned a bit before turning.

Emero stood up and drew his left scimitar then threw it, spinning through the air, it impaled the Thalmor wizard. He stumbled forward before dropping, staring down and patting his just around the tip poking out from the front of him. How odd, it must be, to find a blade sticking out of you. Juliet decided thinking about that was not important now. The wizard's guard looked over, seeing her master die as she decapitated the last bandit in the gang. Fury lit up in her eyes.

She ran at Emero as her shield slam into the older Altmer's chest and her sword slashed him, but instead of flesh being cut her blade clashed with a small layer of metal. Emero dropped, wobbly onto his knees. He looked up as soon as the elven guard was blocking Juliet's slashes. The womer and the ex-prisoner were clashing. Juliet knew she was outclassed by this elf, and she saw the sword coming at her. She ducked and rolled on the ground, quick as she could, then stabbed to her side right into the elf's kidney. Always the kidneys, mother would say, or the throat.

The Thalmor dropped as Juliet, panting, helped Emero back up. Once they were both standing he began to write again.

_You are a good fighter._

He showed her the note. She smiled at him as he smiled back.

"Should we make camp?"

The older elf simply nodded as he pulled out only one bedroll from his small pack. Juliet bathed for the first time in days at a small pond near off, out of view, and dried on the bank before returning in some of her own clean clothes from her back. She decided to bury her prison clothes before returning, now cleanly.

The paper he was using was filled up now, so he reached into his bag and drew out a leather bound journal. He wrote and showed her when she returned to their camp and she was setting up her own bedroll.

_What did he mean you killed an interrogator? _

She knew she shouldn't tell him, it wasn't safe to trust him yet, but after three days in prison and one on the run, it all rush back to her and she spilled her heart to him.

She told him from the torturing to the simple mocking. How he would stare at her like she was a disgusting animal to how the guards would through water on her to wake her up. The arcane users could inflict pain and to heal her so she wouldn't die. She told him what they did, as she did not crime but sail in Dominion waters. She couldn't remember the tears spilled, then or now, but she felt more and more exhausted as she spoke. Through the long night of telling her story Emero listened, not once passing judgment or showing any facial features, just sitting and listening. By the time she was done she was breathing heavy through her nose, all he did was pat her back, and soon she flickered out to sleep.

She awoke to see Emero was getting up and getting ready for the new day. She was a bit surprise he didn't leave her, not to mention kill her. He seemed tired but he look and simply smile.

_Shall we continue our journey?_

She nodded a bit happy to find herself with a more trustworthy companion then her last one. They entered Cyrodiil they both look at a sign pointing them to the nearest town the sign simply said: 'Kvatch'.


	3. Chapter 3

Cyrodiil, the fertile heartland of Tamriel, was mere footfalls away from the sailor and the strider. It was beautiful in the morning as the sun's light stretched and across the fields and shone like gold through the tall grasses. Nobility and the lucky Cyrodiil-born lived north and west of here, in the beautiful cities of the coasts and the hills, but the forest was clean and pure and seemingly devoid of construct as the trees gradually depleted into tall grasses. The air was so clean here. As they walked along deer ran along the edges of the forests, it was one of the few boarders that wasn't gated, the trees themselves were stubborn, and they tore through any man or mer made gave that may have once stood. Nature thrives here, the air hummed with life.

On a hill, high up over looking this field, was Kvatch itself. The gate into Oblivion was long destroyed and no traces of it were found. The only things that even hinted at its previous existence were darker patches of dust where no grass or moss would grow. Kvatch was now a growing city that developed into a strong settlement. The city held the largest, most in depth museum dedicated to the Oblivion Crisis itself. Right outside the museum was a statue dedication to the Hero of Kvatch.

Juliet stared a moment. Never had she been within Cyrodiil, merely traveled along the coasts or spent a few hours at a port. She had heard tales of the beautiful heartland and her mind was clouded with the many strange and wondrous tales. She was fascinated with the statue as well. Curiosity filled her, and she was lost in it. Her mind wandered as she stood still.

In a moment she felt a tap on her shoulder and she jerked upright and became rigid a moment, then glanced over and relaxed.

_You can head in if you want. I'm going to the tavern to get us some supplies._

She nodded quite happily as she went into the local tavern, the Drunken Dremora, for breakfast, as her Elven counterpart went off to the local market.

It was beautiful, far more elegant than any port bar she had gone into. Upon the walls hung lovely and well painted portraits of the gates, and of battles fought against the creature of Oblivion, of heroes of old, and of the beautiful countryside of Cyrodiil. Arching over the porch was a replica of an Oblivion gate, ore of a novelty than anything but it was well crafted none the less. This place was a city for tourists, but Juliet was fascinated, and intrigued by everything she saw. Despite her disinterest in magic, she understood that the gate was mimicked by the sign for conjuration, the 'O' of Daedric language.

As she sat in the inn, drinking and eating, she recalled the festivals in her home town. There were festivals that mocked the Daedra and festivals to appease them, there were parties and holidays were children were told fearsome tales of Mehrunes Dagon, and whimsical tales of Sheogorath. She smiled to herself, pondering these events. She walked out after her long, filling meal and headed down to the streets once more.

For a while she roamed around, but stopped still when she approached possibly the most beautiful buildings in the city. It was rebuilt from the old temple, which was now moved to a less blustering and loud part of town. The building she stood before was the Daedric Museum of Kvatch. Juliet did not resist much longer, she walked up to the museum, and entered afterwards. She had very little money after her breakfast, and used the last of it to pay the touring fee.

Of all the works in the museum, one of the most impressive was a collection of paintings spanning the entire back wall. It had been hundreds of years since the crisis, but the paintings that hung there told of the most dramatic battle of the era. Portrait after portrait, the tail was weaved in a vivid array of colors, the molten reds and oranges of Dagon swept over the blacks, grays, and whites of the Imperial City in chaos, the golden splendor of the dragon of Akatosh spreading its wings as the blues and reds of Martin Septim's garbs stood boldly against the darkness.

"Impressive, isn't it?" A voice asked brazenly to the side of her. Juliet turned her gaze away, seeing a young Imperial next to her. He had steel armor on that was poor fitting, and a hand-me-down shield that he wore on his back. There was a loop where a weapon would have been, but all weapons were turned in at the front desk. He was tan, with short brown hair and blue-gray eyes. He had a small amount of facial hair growing and was staring intently at the painting before turning his head too and looking at her. He had noticed she was silent, "Oh, where are my manors? I'm Lenius." He bowed to her slightly, tipping his head and upper half just slightly.

"Juliet." She stated and then she glanced back again at the portraits, she nodded after a short pause, "Yes. They're very impressive." She saw him smile at her from the corner of her eye. He was a young, handsome Imperial with his whole life ahead of him. He seemed quite arrogant as most youths were.

"He's my idol. I dream of being in the Legion for the Emperor." He said, mostly to himself. Juliet simply nodded, and then asked without even thinking, "Why aren't you already?"

Lenius didn't bind her brashness; he was rather brash as well.

"They told me I wasn't _capable_, but I will show them. I'm heading to the Arena in the capitol soon to hone my skills there, and then I'll prove to the Legion and my father I can amount more than just a farmer's son." He was so sure of himself. Juliet thought to herself that her father would have loved him, and her mother would have hated him. She knew how he felt, being passionate about something and having someone close to you tell you that your dream was pointless.

She gave him a look and a nod, "Well then, my friend and I are heading that ways, perhaps you'd prefer to travel with us? Rather dull and dangerous to be going the roads alone."

Lenius nodded to that, and the offer made him smile. They spent a bit more time in the museum, going over displays of old artifacts, books and paintings. Displays for the Knights of the Nine, the Septim Dynasty, and several of the Daedric realms and cults were there.

Past noon they left the museum. Juliet quickly spotted Emero with his hands full of food as he approached them. Lenius seemed wary of the Altmer, remembering his father's warnings, but he saw Juliet's confidence in the mer, her unwavering gait as she approached him. In this he trusted and he followed her.

"Emero this is Lenius, Lenius this is Emero." Juliet gave them warm smiles.

"Nice to meet you Emero," Lenius spoke and awaited the Altmer to say something. Juliet began, "Oh, he—"

"No I get it—"Lenius snapped and Emero frowned as the Imperial continued in a bitter tone,

"You're an Altmer, superior to a lowly human like me, right? A poor human that you shouldn't even waste a breath to greet! You are your Aldmeri Dominion stomping all over us, well, Oblivion with you too!"

He panted, getting that off his chest. His cheeks were blossoming with rosy red that ran along the bridge of his nose and his forehead too.

"He's mute." Juliet stated.

"What?"

"He's mute, he can't talk."

Lenius look back at Emero, as the infuriated blush began to fade he saw Emero glaring a bit.

"Sorry about that." Lenius said, raising his hands and he tried to laugh it off a bit. Emero was not so amused.

Even after the little outburst they still agreed to sleep at the Drunken Dremora for the night and talk, and write, about their trip for the city. Their plans were simple and concise: first they would follow the roads, then stop in Skingrad, they would work briefly and make a little money before continuing onwards to the Imperial city, where they would bring Lenius to the arena and Emero and Juliet would stop of a while and contact Juliet's parents about the loss of her boat.

Lenius played the drum for a couple of hours and was able to get a little extra gold to help his two new companions pay for room fare. Juliet wasn't sure how she would be able to make back all the money she lost with her boat. The thought perturbed her and saddened her, and she went to be miserable, as Emero lay in his bed with his legs half hanging off. He sighed uncomfortably, but was used to this. He was just too tall.

The morning came not long after and the group ate breakfast together in silence, Lenius still in regret from his outburst, and Emero found no reason to write besides a brief, _Good morning_.

They left Kvatch not long after breakfast, bathing and packing, but for some reason Juliet had a strong sense that she would return to the city. She felt like she had left something undone. It was quiet mostly when they left, the tourists and citygoers had yet to come out. When the three left the city it was cool out. The sky was cloudy and the air was damp and rather humid when they reached the bottom of the hill. The air felt rather still as they trotted down the beaten path.

Upon arriving in Skingrad they went their separate ways, and decided to meet up the next morning at the spot where they made their plans. Juliet was most unsure of this, Cyrodiil was very foreign to her, but when her two companions left she went off her own way too. She looked around Skingrad for work. It was a huge city could have encompassed to, a dusty road with thin, tall grasses along the edges split it down the middle.

Emero recalled hearing of this city, the cheese capitol of Cyrodiil. He was a clever mer, he convinced the local vendors that he was a famous connoisseur, who travelled worldwide sampling the best cheeses, and that he never spoke so that he could only taste cheeses, and the air could never pollute his pallet. That day he got free meals and money as well. He slept in a fine room that night; his legs did not hang off the bed.

Juliet was not so convincing, but she was clever in her own way. She made her money eavesdropping for wealthier folks, and that paid nicely. Gossip was as heavy in Skingrad as snow was heavy in Winterhold. She slept in a tavern that night and began writing a letter to home. Lenius, the youngest of the three, made his way through the day chopping wood and playing little drum beats in various places, bars, inns and such. That is where he slept, and he slept heavily after the long day of working.

The next day the three met up after breakfasts, and headed out of the city well rested and well paid. Lenius and Juliet spoke to each other while Emero just listen to the birds and to the two younger travelers speaking of adventure, albeit Lenius did the majority of the talking.

That calm, relaxed atmosphere went away soon as they saw, running into the middle of the road, was a goblin shaman. She was small, about to Juliet's chest, and she had grey robes on and a staff in her boney arms. She was glaring at them. Emero and Lenius both knew this to be a rare sight, a goblin outside of its cave. Juliet paused after realizing her friends had stopped, and she looked back and over the hills, seeing a collapsed cave. She wondered if that's where the goblin had come from.

Lenius stepped forward, "Don't worry friends, it's only one Goblin." He withdrew his weapon, an old axe bearing the Imperial reds along its shaft. The paint was shipping. The goblin stared at him calmly, before scampering over the hill. Lenius followed it, foolhardy but swift in his stride. Emero and Juliet looked to each other, and Emero waved his arms back and forth. Juliet called to the young Imperial, "Lenius stop." He did not hear her as he followed the goblin down a tunnel. They followed both huffing irritable sighs.

Lenius saw the goblin shaman stop and look at him. He held his axe tightly. As Emero and Juliet hurried down the tunnel they saw Lenius nod far ahead, they saw a bright light flash for a moment, Lenius dodged a fireball from the staff and Emero and Juliet ducked as it flew over their heads. When they looked back up the shaman had struck Lenius across the face with her staff, the young man stumbled, his armor was week and primarily for show. Juliet and Emero hadn't even a second to blink before they saw the staff swing down then up and connect with the Imperial between his legs. The two heard him yelp before he fell to the ground. Another crack to the head made him stop whimpering.

"Ooh." Juliet stated, pitying the poor lad, as Emero cringed and recoiled slightly. The woman and the mer took a step closer, with that motion the shaman made a screeching battle cry and dirt fell upon the heads of the two as the tunnel was suddenly swarming with goblins. In a moment they prepared to kill Lenius, but Emero was already slashing at the weak and small goblins with his glistening scimitars. Limbs flew and fell as he swung his blades and blood splattered, skulls were cracking and bones breaking while Juliet used her Drakan family heirloom, a dragonbone shield, the bash and crush the goblins.

The shaman was infuriated. She began to back away as she shot a fire bolt at the Breton. Juliet's shield met the fire bolt, blocking it, and an ashy mark was left upon the sturdy bone plating. Then the shied connect yet again, this time with the shaman's head. Her neck cracked as her head was forced backwards. The shaman was dead, along with all of her clan, as Emero drew his left scimitar from the last twitching, writhing pea-soup green body. Juliet ran to Lenius only to find he was unconscious and wasn't getting up anytime soon.

"Emero, he's knocked out what do we do?" She asked. The steel clad Imperial was far too heavy for her to lift, but with that Emero simply lifted the lad over his shoulders and proceeded to carry him out from the tunnel. As Juliet follow she smiled at her Altmer friend, seeing him so willing to help someone who had insulted him. She admired him so much for his carefree and helpful ways, it reminded her of her father. She felt heavy again, missing her family. That thought ended when they reached the outside of the tunnel and the sky was sunny and bright again, no more clouds loomed and the air was far drier.

Emero carried Lenius along for no more than an hour. When he came to he was put down and his legs wobbled, he groaned, held his head and looked to and fro. He saw Juliet standing a few feet to his right, as Emero took a step back from behind him. Juliet smiled slightly, and held out a hand to him. He took it and she put his arm over her shoulder. He limped slightly and stumbled along with her help, "what happened?" He asked.

"The goblins took you to their kingdom." She stated and Emero smiled a little as he walked behind them, Juliet continued, smiling a little, "they made you their king and took your seed to make half-man, half-goblin babies and now they're arising an army."

"WHAT?"

Juliet laughed lightly, "I'm just joking, they hit you in the nethers then we cleaned up your mess."

Lenius grumbled and hit her in the side, but couldn't help but laugh, Juliet wheezed and laughed a little too, "Horker!"

"I'm a horker? You scared me half to death."

Juliet smiled slightly and rubbed her side before continuing to walk along, holding Lenius up as they made their way down the path with Emero close behind. A faint white line stood on the horizon.


	4. Chapter 4

The three drew down the dusty road once Lenius was steady on his feet. High grasses swung lazily in the summer breeze. Hazy clouds had stretched over the softening skies, pale blue fading into vibrant sapphire and deep purple as the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon. The white hot sun burned glittering sparks along the river; its reflection was as pure as the waters that could be seen straight through to the bottom of the flowing river. Lenius spoke of the legend of the Immortal Empress's dragons that were under the command of the city, which guarded the glistening tower like loyal dogs. This was a myth, but an entertaining tale to hear as they headed down

The tower rose above the shining exterior walls that were as pure as the river and the sun hanging low. Fertile grasses blew softly along the riverside. Newer, finer architecture stood strong now, after the multiple invasions most buildings and things had been fire proofed, but still the city was lovely and it was undoubtedly the most beautiful city of its kind. As the three came down and across the bridge guards stood and gave them skeptical glares, but allowed the three within the city. Travelers were as common as dust and stones here.

The three used their currently plentiful amount of gold to repair their armors and weapons, and they indulged in frivolous spending: Juliet nearly lost her way in the book shop with Emero, while Lenius splurged upon a hefty second lunch in preparation for arena training. It was sunset when they had finished their spending and they left the market district and continued onwards.

The purity of the exterior extended within its walls and it was breathtakingly beautiful upon entrance. Despite their general lack of necessity, the guards patrolled the pale and dusty streets. Crates of exotic imports dotted the market, between tall, sturdy columns that centered around spiraling wreaths of dust that danced on the warm winds. Lenius was wide awake as he walked confidently down the road. They came to the arena but it had been closed early on account of cleaning (there was a multitude of corpses to dispose of that day).

Lenius's confidence hardly shrunk, and he happily suggested spending another night at an inn with his friends. The trio went to a small tavern in the southern district. It was a bright place known as the "White-Gold Dragon" that glowed with candles' lights and golden platters. Recently it had been founded by the empress's husband's cousin's family; it low-cost but lavished, and funded by the royal family.

The tavern had pale oaken walls along the inside that reflected the glow of the hearth. The exterior was primarily stone but the brilliant lights shone from within and attracted adventurers like moths to flame. It was warm and the bard was a young lad with a stunningly powerful and alluring voice, he sang it as if chimes were sent through the room even some of the brutes seemed calm. On the wall was the legendary Glass Long-sword "Akatosh's Sabre", that had once been wielded by the empress's husband and national hero. The three were astonished, all new the legend of the hero.

The myth remained that the blade could sever the bones of the mightiest giant or dragon, and it sliced through Daedric armor like cobweb. He had been one of the empress's mightiest warriors, though he was born of Cyrodiil and she was born of Skyrim, they had met in the legion, and when the empress claimed the throne he followed loyally. It was a sweet tale, one that many adored.

As the three looked around they saw that the room was decorated with many painting of the two, over the fireplace was the couple on their wedding day. Juliet recalled two books she had read: one, "The Mortal's Passion", described the tale of the charismatic legate, who fought off the Thalmor when the second invasion occurred. That was when the Dominion sent assassins to kill the fledgling empress, but they were met with the ancient order of the Blades, reformed now by the will and determination of the empress. A second book claimed another tale, "Dragonborn's Desire", it theorized that it was not the legate's son that became the next emperor, rather the young lord was the bastard son of the advisor and long- time friend of the empress, Gregor Manidor, a man who had helped her in the first rebellion of Skyrim, against Ulfric Stormcloak, when she was young.

Juliet remembered the books fondly, they were both intriguing, but she doubted both tales, finding them overly romanticized. Lenius couldn't stop talking about the tales, the way he had heard them. He knew these stories by heart, and not from books but by word of mouth. He spoke the empress's name as though it were the name of his own mother. He loved the old tales of the dark days of the empire and how it returned to its glory.

Emero seemed happy to listen; genuinely the tales intrigued him, despite how villainously the high elves were depicted. Lenius didn't seem to notice Emero's discomfort. Juliet looked around the room with disinterest. She knew the tales; she couldn't be bothered to hear them again. She tuned in again when she heard Lenius say, "That Orc over there looks like she wants to bash in the bard's head with his own lute" Lenius joked as he pointed over. Juliet turned her head to observe.

Sitting at the bar was a young Orcish womer, staring at the bard intently. Her lower lip curved down with a small under-bite, and two short tusks poked up from her bottom jaw. Her skin was a dark shade of green, strong and scarred in few placed. She was more skilled in battle that Juliet, who had several scars. The Orc had pale eyes and her brows were thin and long. Her hair was shaved on both sides and its length came down her back into a thin ponytail. She wore iron armor but lacked a helmet, and Juliet noted faded war paint on her face.

Lenius had mistaken her staring for contempt, but rather it was a look of desire. Not a desire for the young man, she held a firm apathy in him, but her entire being was mesmerized by the lute, and the music. It was a stare that Juliet herself had once, when she saw her father leave port for the first time and she ached to follow him. The wanting of the sea was the last time she stared like that.

Juliet watched her, wondering what held her with such a power. She wondered what sorrow weighed her and then her eyes trailed across the room back to the bard, then to the Orc once more and it clicked. Juliet felt a strong urge in her heart and she stood and walked across the room.

"Uh, excuse me."

The Orc's eyes shot from the bard to the Breton in front of her, then restated a flat phrase she had spoken multiple times, "You need a blade? Go no further. I'm one of the best in all Tamriel. 250 septims and I'll guard your back, through thick and thin." That was a low price for a mercenary, Juliet noted, but that was not what she came here for.

"No, no—"Juliet paused a moment, "I, uh, I just wanted to ask you a question."

"No time for talk, if you don't need me, leave me alone." That too she had said many times.

Juliet frowned, seeing this womer was stubborn, but she felt a connection. She knew it was none of her business, but she knew also the feeling of having something beloved denied to you. She asked her question despite the Orc's defiance, "You like music?"

The Orc shot her a quick glance.

"Of course not, music is foolish and we Orcs…"

Juliet already knew this one was lying to her. She saw the womer searching for words and she began to speak again, "You shouldn't be ashamed of it, we all have our passions."

The Orc stared at the Breton as she went up for the night. Emero and Lenius had been watching, the two looked at each other and then exchanged shrugs. Emero paid for the rooms with the last few septims, now that they had spent most of their money in a single day, then they all went their ways for bed.

The dauntless sun drew up slow that morning. Juliet was sitting at one of the tables at the White-Gold Dragon; she was the second one up. Emero was an early riser, and she had joined him. Both of their stomachs were empty now, and they concluded that they had not enough money to pay for breakfast. Lenius soon came down and sat at the same table, he was happy, having a good night's sleep and a good dinner, despite the earliness he had no reason to complain.

"I can't believe him, that backstabbing, heart twisting, jerk of a husband!" A shrill voice rang from an Imperial woman, who was drinking quite early. She seemed to be well endowed, by her fine clothing and yuppie voice, "When I find her I will kill her." Juliet heard her mother there, and knew that instant she was having troubles with her spouse. She got an idea in her head and stood. She walked over,

"Uh, Ma'am, I couldn't help but notice you seem troubled."

The older woman looked at the Breton and, at first, became very irritated, "A young lady ought to speak clearly, 'um's and 'uh's are so barbaric!" She paused a moment, Juliet stood patiently, and the woman sighed sadly "I'm… I'm sorry about that. It's just that my husband has been out quite late for the last three months. I know he's having an affair, by the Nine, what would I give to know who she is!"

Juliet perked up, "750 septims and we'll bring her right to you. Personally, I can't stand a cheating man." She gave the woman a smile, and prayed to Kynareth that she was convincing enough for the pitiful little paranoid woman.

The older woman thought for a moment before deciding, "Deal. His name is Carus Clovius; he works as an alchemist in the market district, at the Roaring Raven." They both nodded to each other before Juliet returned to her group. "Come on you two, we got a paying job." Juliet smiled and Lenius stood, then leaned in close and whispered, "What, from that crazy bat?"

Juliet nodded and grinned wide, "750 septims, and all we have to do is shadow her husband for a day. Simple as shoes, we'll be fine. There are three of us after all."

Lenius paused, and then glanced back to Emero who shrugged his shoulder a bit and nodded. The young man sighed as the aging mer stood and pushed in the chairs after. The three headed out and began the hunt.

It was early still and the three were hungry when they approached the shop.

_I will go in first._

The two humans had no reason to complain at first, until the sun drew up high and the streets were baking hot. The two took shelter in the shade by the crates of the market district, and there they shared storied.

For hours the three of them went in and out of the shop. Emero spent the most time there; after all he was the only one of them with actual arcane knowledge. From Emero's findings the man was very average: an imperial with dark hair and tan skin, physically he was rather plan, but he was charming and relentlessly charismatic. Every word was inviting. Emero left past noon and came to them, reporting in writing that he had discovered basically nothing, and that he thought that a woman might better be able to crack him.

When Juliet shadowed his shop he discussed edible vegetation and flora with her, and that was a fine and lengthy conversation, but in her enjoyment of the talk she completely forgot her goal, and when Carus directed her outside with a pouch full of edible plants she was elated. When the door closed behind her she paused.

"Gods damn it…"

When Lenius entered they had little to speak about, but Carus was none the less friendly. Their visits though, yielded no results, and so they followed him, taking back alleys and detours as they watched him move once his working hours were over. It was sunset then, and Carus was striding into the gardens calmly, there he ducked behind some of the denser trees. The three creepers tucked themselves behind a fountain, in the center of which was a statue of Dibella spouting water.

Carus waited. The hours passed and Lenius nearly left twice but each time was dragged back down and they watched as the stars began to come out. Carus sat still, reading over a few different letters and smiling. After all the stars at come out to show their light, a solitary figure began to stride down into the secluded part of the garden was walking down the alley. A tall mer, golden skinned and dark eyed approached. He stopped in front of Carus who stood and tucked the letters away. The mer had a serious tone, "how's the shop?"

"Good, I've almost enough money to pay you back, Hranmar." Carus said with a smile.

"It's not an _affair_. He's doing business with that Altmer." Juliet hissed.

"It is _too_ an affair—he's cheating on Cyrodiil with that Altmer. A Thalmor, no doubt, he's betraying the empire." Lenius whispered in a patriotic tone and then paused; he glanced to Emero, who was still watching intently.

The Altmer walked towards the Imperial and loomed over him, "It's not about the _money_, and you know it, Carus."

The elf grabbed the man's collar as he stared at him intently, Carus stared too, his eyes wide, unwavering. Lenius was about to rush to save the man, starting to his feet, but before he could stand he froze as he saw the Altmer press his lips to the Imperial's and he wrapped his arms around the man and brought him close. The Imperial gripped the elf with one arm and with his free hand he ran his fingers through the elf's long hair as they clung to each other, as though magnetized.

"_BY TALOS'S MIGHTY BEARD_!" Lenius was up; the couple stared for a moment and for less than a second Lenius was frozen before he sprinted away. Emero and Juliet clumsily jolted up and then stumbled after their fleeing friend, leaving the mer confused and the man rather frightened.

When they returned to the White-Gold Dragon with the news the next morning they were paid, and the woman was left astonished. The three headed out after a brief but heavy breakfast, and agreed to not speak of the situation any further. As they were leaving Lenius stopped them and stood firmly.

"Emero, Juliet… I think I should head to the Arena now."

Emero was a bit skeptical about him entering the pit, considering how he fared against that shaman, so he gave a bit of advice to him he had learned, many, many years ago.

_You've got far more to lose than you'll realize until you've already lost it all, so stay ready, always._

Juliet was as quiet as Emero after that; she walked along with a bit of a sulk. Another one of her friends was leaving her, but at least it was on better terms. When they arrived the cleaning was complete but the place still reeked of gore. Lenius turned around and said to them, standing straight and tall, "Well, this is it for now. I will meet you again, I promise it."

With brief hugs and handshakes they departed and Lenius headed down. The summer heat hung the two there and they watched him leave before turning and walking down the dusty road, side by side.

It was not long before the two travelers found a courier willing to deliver Juliet's letter to her parents. It was quite the cost though, 400 septims, but that was to be expected for a letter from Cyrodiil to High Rock. They handed over the gold and off the courier went with a satchel full of letters. After that Emero and Juliet decided some cold drinks were in order, the heat of noon intense. As they walked along the sea dog was practically panting and her mer friend was fanning his face with the leather bound journal. As they approached the vendor they heard a voice come from behind them.

"A storm is coming."

Juliet and Emero turned around, faster than any other motion today. The man standing there had empty, milky eyes and thinning hair that yielded at the top of his head but blossomed into a full beard that was just as pale as his eyes. He wore robes that seemed so out of place here, even with mages about.

He smiled at the two of them as he walked up to them, as they were longtime friends. Neither had ever met before, and Emero had both his shoulders back as the man approached, standing rather rigid and defensive. He could sense the power that the stranger withheld from them, and he pressed a palm to Juliet's belly to keep her back.

She knit her brows and Emero lowered his hand away. He had given enough of a warning to her; Juliet knew now to stay on her guard.

"I'm Durlus." He said with a very certain voice, as if he were sure that they had all known each other at one point. Juliet nodded slowly, and knew he wouldn't leave until they spoke with him.

"What brings you here?"

Durlus smiled at her, directly at her, as though he could see her clearly, "Oh, just looking for someone," he paused a moment, "The Empire seems to be doing well."

They both nodded that kind of nod one gives when they are not truly listening, or understanding.

"But it feels, with all this war, that the Empire forgetting something."

They only stared at him, wondering why he was talking to them. With every nod they forgot more and more that he was blind.

"With Valdire in ruins and Stros M'kai nearly flooding, ah, the tides must be turning." Again he paused and the two companions were still in misunderstanding. Emero, despite his best efforts, could not understand this cryptic message, nor Juliet in the slightest, but she remembered this events occurring.

"It's as if the air itself is changing. I wish I was not so old, or I go visit my friend at the College of Winterhold, she would understand… but I feel I may not survive this storm." He looked at them again with his milky eyes, seeing nothing of them; rather he turned in the direction of the smells of their breaths.

"Well, good bye." As soon as he had arrived he had left, and rain began to fall. Emero tucked away his journal quickly and the two fled with great speed back to the White-Gold Dragon. Within the tavern it was warm, and the two friends huddled by the fire and waited off the cold.

The sky grew dark in that afternoon, and for a moment that rain felt muted and so soft against the hot air of the city in summer. The sky flashed bright violet.

"Ah" Durlus stated, "Now I see," before a blinding flash struck him and his body convulsed. The bolt had struck him and he fell to the ground, ashen and burned. Guards rushed over quickly and the thunder had been so close that it still rung in their ears. Juliet had gone up to bed, it was late by then, but Emero stayed by the window and wrote in his journal. When he saw the flash he glanced out the window.

It was so close, he thought, and wondered if anyone had gotten hurt. It was only one bolt, striking right into the city streets. It made no sense, and as he thought this over he saw that the storm was retreating now and fading away. Emero squinted hard as the mist hung over the city, gray and heavy, left behind as a mark of the storm. The gray and misty aura clung to the stone as the heavy rain returned from whence it came and the air smelled clean. When the storm had fully retreated the air was silent, this disturbed him.

Morning came and it too was gray. When they went down stairs the bar was humming with gossip: a moth priest was killed by a lightning bolt last night in the storm. His name was thrown left and right, _Durlus_. Emero stood rigid and wide eyed at the bottom of the stairs, but Juliet couldn't help herself. She absorbed herself into every discussion immediately, needing to know every detail, but all the stories were so different, it was inconclusive. Juliet was again weighed down by a strange feeling, and Emero shared it too, it was as though something were lost. Emero sucked in a deep breath and steeped down and walked to Juliet, writing in his book again.

_We need to go to Winterhold._

Juliet was confused. She looked up at him to question but saw the look of fear and determination on his face.

"Fine… but we are going to need help. I have an idea."

Juliet strode over past the gossipers, having heard enough.

"You again, more questions?"

"Just one," Juliet said and placed a pouch of 250 septims in front of the young womer, "Have you ever been to Skyrim?"


	5. Chapter 5

The three traveled together, northbound. They spoke little, but all of them in their hearts felt that there was a great peace. The strife had yet to reach the heart of Tamriel. Was this what the Imperials felt daily; Calmness and peace while the rest of the world is tearing each other apart? Perhaps though it was fair, Cyrodiil had seen much pain in its many years, and the beautiful field and forests were grown on blood soaked soils.

Emero look around the path, feeling out of place here. This was the territory of men now, and elves were not always welcomed into towns. In fact, the relationships of men and elves had grown continually strained since the ending of the Great War many years ago, despite the peace treaty. It was unstable, a societal ticking time bomb.

Juliet watched as deer was grazing out in the field, she felt light now that the struggles were behind her. She walked in between the two taller folk, Emero to her left, and the orcish sellsword Shnagri to her right. Shnagri walked with a masculine gait, which didn't suit her well. Juliet could tell the orc woman had a more delicate, feminine side she was hiding, but she did not ask about this. The walk was peaceful and quiet; it did not need to be strained by prodding and conversation.

They had reached the north most border of the heartland and came to Bruma on a cool and breezy morning, after camping together for the night in the forest. It had been silent but for the popping and snapping of sparks on the fire. Summer was at its end now, and autumn was creeping into Cyrodiil as a cold mist into a harbor. In Bruma it had already become rather snowy, and a thin and pale sheet of flakes clung to roofs and to the outskirts and unbeaten stretches parallel to the paths. Emero was leading them, for he had traveled the farthest reaches, the woman and the womer were at his back now, neither had seen such a sight as old and snowy Bruma.

It had become quite the city, a welcoming community to Nords seeking peace away from their chaotic homeland, without losing the comforts and nostalgia of their beloved homeland. The surrounding trees had all been cleared to build the community, and in their place stood small farms. The shadow of thick timber walls loomed over as the sun began to set the shadows reached further into the empty fields. As the three came up to the gates they were allowed entrance within by the Bruma city guards and they went inside. The roads within were darker, boots has scuffed away the thin white vale over the ground and it was rather muddy.

There were two levels to the city and on the upper was a mead hall with golden light pouring from the windows and the scents of honey lingered in the air. On the lower were small homes and businesses that clung to the edges of the road. There was little commotion but for at the hall where voices could be heard from within, singing and cheering joyfully. The three strangers headed up the road and to the higher tier of the city, parallel to which was a temple, provided so once sinning was complete in the mead hall one could stumble only a block away to repent in temple.

They entered the mead hall and were immediately hit with a blast of warm air and the ringing of jubilant voices, immediately they were brought inside, "Welcome friends!" cried a jubilant and buxom woman as she led them inside, "Welcome to Hagedin Hall!"

The warmth and joy immediately lightened Juliet's heart, and it was as though the whole journey's pains had gone away. Once inside she joined a few Nord men and drank and sang with them as if she had been going to the mead hall her entire life. Emero frowned slightly and turned to Shnagri, the sellsword, and gave her a look. She furrowed her lean brows as he raised the journal and wrote.

_I suppose we should rest here for the night. _

Shnagri nodded. She watched the men and the women singing and drinking for a moment longer, and then headed off to buy herself dinner and drink, while Emero went upstairs to quell the headache that was beginning to form from the ruckus in the hall. When the stars and the moons were high Shnagri too had gone up to rest. Juliet sat by the fire with a man whore wore his dirty blond, long hair tied back in a messy and loose pony tail. His eyes were dark blue like the night sky and his skin and lips were pale like stars, he spoke with the Breton, the two of them were of similar age.

"My grandfather founded this hall, you know, him and my grandmother, after the war." His voice was slow and soft, heavy and sweet from the mead. Juliet looked over at him as she sat with a flagon in her hand.

"The war, the rebel's war?"

The young Nord nodded and he spoke slowly still, his head swam with the mead through his blood and his belly, "Those were the years when Winterhold was still in ruin, but when they came here they brought home with them." He smiled lightly, "Now my mother and father run the hall, and I just tend the farm with my four siblings."

Juliet took a long drink and then yawned before she began to stare at the fire, "What's it like having lots of siblings?"

The young man shrugged, "It's alright, I don't spend much time with them anymore. I've been looking for something."

"Hm?" Juliet looked back over again as their faces were illuminated by the soft and flickering oranges of the fire's light.

"Just an old ring my mother used to carry around. It's just a trinket, but it'd be nice to have some sort of family heirloom. I think I found its location, but it's rather far…" his voice began to quiet and he drank too. Juliet nodded slowly, "How far?"

"Northwest," he said, "near the mountains, in Skyrim. Why do you ask?" He turned his head, looking at her now with his dark, stormy eyes.

"I'm—well, my friend and I, and our sellsword, we're journeying to Winterhold. We could come with you to the mountains, then head north from there, everybody wins, right?"

The Nord smiled lightly, "You'd be willing to trek into the wilderness, because a drunk farm boy wanted to look for a ring out in the mountains?"

"Yeah, pretty much." Juliet nodded again.

"Is that you or the mead talking?" He asked her with a broader smile.

"Me. I'm Juliet, by the way." She held out her free hand to him.

"Goren." He said, and they shook in agreement.

Goren was a nice enough fellow, Juliet thought, and after a few more drinks they stumbled their separate ways and Juliet fell into bed. The night was quiet, and she rested well until early in the morning. It was still dark; slowly she turned her head and looked at the snow glazed window that was illuminated golden by the lantern. She thought a while, the wind blew soft outside and snoring could be heard from all corners of the inn, and she smiled groggily. She understood now why the Nords lived here. It was peaceful, and she imagined Skyrim must be in horrible shambles. Four wars in the past few decades, unbelievable. She knew little of that business though, and soon her thoughts drifted again. It was only the fourth night away from Lenius but it felt longer to her, she missed the foolish Imperial boy. Soon she drifted back to sleep.

Emero had fallen asleep rather let, all the noise had kept him up, but now he was sleeping peacefully and dreaming. Nothing was out of the ordinary in his mind, his dreams were of old memories, played slow as though they were all run through water and dragged out. Shnagri made small noises in her sleep while she slept, and was having a unusual dream. Her dreams were absent of war or violence, her sleeping mind was filled with lovely tunes and melodies and people dancing and being carefree.

Juliet soon began to dream again, and soon images of the sea came to her, and she felt an overwhelming sense of freedom, but soon the peace and joy was shattered. The peaceful and beautiful blues became dark and gray, and stormy clouds filled the sky. She struggled to stay on course, but soon her ship was torn toe splinters. She heard Mori scream, and saw Emero's and Shnagri's bodies drifting through the dark water. She felt eyes on her, and gasped and sputtered water, then jerked her head about. She saw Durlus, the moth priest, watching her. He smiled, and at the flash of his old and brittle teeth her eyes became wide. A cannon ball ripped through his chest, and spun towards her, and before it all went black she heard her mother's scream and men of the Thalmor yelling.

Juliet snapped up, breathing heavily, she turned her head back and forth and then sighed. Her hair was a wild mess as she began to settle again, "Nightmare…," She turned her head again and saw that the sun was rising now.

"What a great way to start the day." She mumbled to herself, then pulled some clean clothes on and stumbled down stairs. She strode over slowly and went to the table Emero was sitting and drinking at. Hi long, old face was drawn into a scowl. The Nord mead did not suit his palette, and it was visibly obvious. The Nords seemed wary of the Altmer and his mood, but the morning was slow and still as the snow now, and all was left quiet in the mead hall. Shnagri was soon follow and meet up with Juliet and Emero, coming down to them as she pulled her hair back straight and adjusted her armor. Juliet sat down as Emero's breakfast came and was placed in front of him, he paid, and Shangri sat down as well. He wrote in his book and held it out so they could see.

_What is the plan now?_

Juliet looked about and they eyed Goren, after a moment they made eye contact, and she waved him over. He set with them, and Juliet began to speak to Emero, "Well, Goren here has asked us if we could help him retrieve his ring, and he has offered to lead us there, and find us a quick way through the mountains to Skyrim." Goren nodded, affirming this statement to the group as he smiled at them, warm, inviting, and sleepy. Shnagri didn't trust him already but didn't speak it, nor would she. Emero was indifferent about him, but was happy to have a guide, and so he pushed his quill down and wrote quickly.

_That sounds fine. _

Shnagri huffed a sigh and Juliet turned to look at Goren, who said, "I'll meet you by the north gate after breakfast then, and we'll head off." He added quickly, with a playful smile, "I mean if you can keep up." Juliet smirked and watched him stand. He headed over to the mantle over the fireplace, then took a fine looking sword down. Crafted with care, it was a deadly as it was beautiful, and he held it firmly then sheathed it on his belt. Shnagri stared a moment, "Who could have…"

"Smithed it? My ancestor, she was one of the greatest smiths in all of Tamriel. She was alive during the rebel's war." He paused, looked the three over, then smiled again as he walked out. Quickly the trio ate a meager breakfast, then met up with Goren, who was leaning against the stable and braiding the end of his beard out of boredom. He looked eager, and when they arrived his eyes lit up and bounded down the snowy path with them, leading them towards the mountains.

Juliet smiled at his enthusiasm, she quickened her pace, almost skipping, and she followed the braid-bearded man. Emero and Shangri gave each other a quick glance, then followed afterwards with pallor expressions. The Nord stopped at an open pass through the mountains, where jagged rocks loomed over the snow-heavy trees, "it's an old rebel pass, they used it to avoid Imperial searches." Goren was happy, he felt as though his proud ancestors were guiding him, as he went up with the three travelers behind him.

Goren rambled for hours as they went along through the pass, tales of his old ancestors and their adventures through Skyrim, and in fact through all of Tamriel. Shnagri yawned through much of the trek, but Emero and Juliet listened with respect, but soon the tall, sturdy man became as still and wary as an elk sensing a predator. A rumble was heard, and clouds of snow were rushing down as rocks and boulders tumbled down the cliff side. Juliet's eyes went wide and she saw one only a few arms lengths in front of her, coming at her. Before she could react Emero grabbed her and turned her amount, a medium sized rock hit him in the back and he grounded in pain, the two of them fell, tumbling over each other, then looked over and saw the rocks and snow clouds had settled at the bottom of the cliff.

Both Goren and Shnagri came forth unscathed, and Emero and Juliet slowly helped each other up. Juliet looked up at the golden skinned mer, and swallowed, "You ok?" He winced a bit, and nodded, then looked around and drew his blade. Four figures were scaling down the Cliffside quickly towards them. They landed on the pile of rocks, and then jumped down. All were armed, and they looked eager to fight.

"Hand over the goods and no one needs to die." One of the four grabbed Juliet and dragged her from Emero's side, "and we mean _all_ of the goods." The elf's eyes lit up with fear and anger, but before he could slice the hands off of the bandit he heard a strange tearing noise, and turned his head to Goren. Shnagri, who was only about a foot or two behind him, had drawn her weapon, but had frozen her eyes on Goren as well. The bandits were still, and the one gripping Juliet would not let her turn back around.

Now, Goren was man who always smiled, a man who always had a good time, and who really loves life. His smile had faded, along with many of his other features. His flesh tore and long, thick hairs were coming up out of his skin as his spine made a loud popping noise and he hunched over and roared as his jaw and face grew out and his teeth grew large and sharp, he roared. His tongue grew long, and saliva dripped from his furred mouth. He had become a monster, a werewolf. It threw its arms back, and both Emero and Shnagri were accidentally knocked out.

One of the bandits stood rigidly, and was shaking, he could not step back, he could not move his weapon forward, "By Talos…" the beast pounced and the bandit threw Juliet down, her head hit a rock, and all she saw before passing out was the brute's claws tearing into the chest of the bandit, and he tore his upper half off from his lower half then he threw the flailing torso into the air and it landed with a splurch into the cliff side. It jumped over to the other three, who were beginning to scatter, but the monster would not have it. He jumped upon the closest and tore into his throat with his teeth, then he went after the small one, who swung a mace into the monster's jaw. That was the bandit's last mistake, the monster's eyes lit up and it grabs the bandits head in its massive clawed hand then tightened its fist and crushed the bandit's head.

The last was stumbling away down the path, leaving a yellowy trail that marked the sheer horror the bandit had experienced, and the monster would have none of that either. He picked up the rock that had slammed into Emero and he threw it, knocking the bandit's legs off. It left the man to bleed to death.

It was not long before the three awoke, and Goren was sleeping peacefully at their feet. It was night now, and the four bodies were gone, the only thing left was a thin stench on Goren's lips, and stains of blood. Juliet held her head, and she looked over, seeing Goren. The two of her wakening companions had large bruises, and all of them concluded to not speak of this until Goren was awake. They made camp that night, again, in silence.


	6. Chapter 6

The night passed and the tension of the battle washed away with the fading of the stars at dawn. Goren was the first to wake and the sweet smoky smell of salmon drifted across the camp. Four salmon that he kept in salted linen were roasting now. The orc now snapped up, memories flashed through her mind of the wolf. She grabbed for the hilt of her orcish ax, but kept her distance from the Nord. His smile was genuine; he looked to her after she has readjusted her armor.

"Sell sword, are you hungry? Rough day yesterday. Hope you're partial to fish." His pale-lipped grin lingered on his weathered face when he took out four bottles of mead from his bag then turned the fish over once more. Shnagri paid no mind; her calloused olive hand went and rub the bump of her head. She gave a slight flinch when she touched it.

The smoke lingered over the camp and puffed up past the tree line, dissipating beyond there after a time. Juliet awoke, head tipping to one side and her shoulders drooped. She looked about at first then snapped her head in the direction of the lump left in the blanket. Quickly she scooted across then stumbled over to the elf. He was still asleep much to his good fortune, but that peace was broken when Juliet's hands shook him awake. His golden eyes opened and instantly pain shot through his shoulder down to his wrist. Juliet frowned seeing him cringe and draw away from her. When she settled and knelt down, she reached for his arm tenderly and drew it forward, seeing his hand was in a horrid kink, two fingernails bloodied and broken and even more blood was caked along the twisted flesh clinging to his broken wrist.

Emero clenched his teeth, no voice could escape him but visibly he was in pain.

"Don't worry Emero, I've got a healing potion. Let me just…" She tenderly took his hand and Emero's eyes went wide as she turned it about to its original position. His mouth hung open, eyes bulging as the pain raged through him. Juliet laid his hand down and the elf's body was rigid when she went to her pack and from her supplies she retrieved the shaken bottle of red fluid that was taken from the Thalmor. Juliet returned to him and took a rag from her vest pocket. She tipped the bottle and dapped the red fluid onto the cloth, applying the magickal potion onto his fingers and wrist then. The minor tonic rushed through his body and his blood pumped rapidly, his face flushed golden-brown with the brief touch of heat and went hot for a moment. The bones fused back together, and the scar tissue healed away from his yellowy skin. The pain subsided instantly after. He turned to his Breton ally and smiled to her weakly, she smiled back and tucked the damp rag back.

"Thank you for protecting Emero…" she said gently to him and when his head just began to nod she swapped him in the back of his gray-haired head, "but don't you dare scare me like that you stubborn Elf!"

Emero's mouth opened and he gestured laughter, silent still. They glanced to each other after, the two smiling, then Juliet turned her head back and Emero looked over, the fish were nearly done. Goren smiled at them too, "Enjoyed your beauty sleep?" He placed the salmon on a clean rock that was on the side of the camp. Emero wasn't so excited to have salmon with a hint of rock dirt. His elven pride dueled his mortal hunger, and soon he raised up his book and wrote slowly.

_I'm not hungry, thank you._

Juliet could see the lying in his eyes but before she could object he stood and walked over to pick berries from the bushes. There was little to find in the early months of winter. The Orc and Breton did not have the same issue, and Goren split the fish between the two younger ladies. Shnagri bowed her head somewhat in thanks, and Juliet gave a smiles and a 'thank you'. The Nord smiled still even through his chewing of the leathery, salty meat. Shnagri attempted to mimic this, to prove she truly was an orc of barbaric inclinations, but at a glance it was clear she was trying too hard to play her own act. Juliet was cleaner still than the both of them and she carved up the meat with a small iron knife.

They ate in silence for a long while, the meal was the first any of them had had in a while. Goren placed the bones down, letting them fall onto the ground after he finished the last fish and then looked up.

"The ring, if I'm right, is in an old fort up in the mountains overseeing Falkreath. If you three wouldn't mind, we could get my ring together, and you can take the path down to Falkreath."

Emero came over and sat back down onto his furs and his blanket, he lifted the journal back up again. Pushing his pen ever so lightly to the paper, he wrote again.

_Let's move then. _

When all had seen and agreed, he set the journal away again then firmly took his scimitars and set the belt sheathes over his shoulders. Shnagri stood then, glad to get back to the adventure. She held a great discomfort in staying in one place for too long. Goren went off, he searched the sides of the rock walls, looking for another pass.

For the first time for a long time the orc spoke, "He really knows this path very well, doesn't he?" Emero nodded, not really noticing the Nord's hand tracing of the mountainous walls. The mer looked away, and his golden eyes traced lines in the snow and rock as he thought to himself. Perhaps it was a Nord's kind of pass time, considering the Nord instinct for adventure. Emero thought that this kind of wanderlust most likely made him go into these mountains more so than the ring, as it must be boring back at Bruma. The ring was a means to get and about. The peace, Emero thought too, must have been nice, but it was not a full life for this barbaric northern man, who needed action. Emero looked down again, and thought perhaps that this trait, the desire for brisk air and battle, was the reason Skyrim was always so chaotic, and bound to bouts of war and siege.

Juliet went to Goren as he stopped at another path way, staring into the white, "So, Goren how did you know that the ring is all the way up here?"

The Nord look down at his Breton ally and made a quick smile, "I learned of I from travelers and deserters, coming to Bruma from the Falk, they told me of some bandits taking many goods and heirlooms from the families who left Skyrim. It's my best chance."

Juliet nodded and furrowed her brows a bit, looking off.

The group of four went up the trail as they look around. A small snowflake fell and hit Juliet on the nose the cold water went down the bridge of her nose, she raised her hand and wiped it off the edge of her nostril, then perked her head up.

"Ah, we be entering Skyrim now friends," Goren chuckled as he went up the rocks as snow fell down lightly. He seemed more at home in these snowy mountains than he did at his ancestor's tavern.

They reached the tops of the mountain in the afternoon, accompanied by each other and muscle aches. Goren had informed them on the way down that this was actually a rather small trek, and that most mountains in Skyrim were two or three times the height of this one. Together, they helped each other down, as the wind blew them to and fro, jesting at their smallness and their weakness under the powers of nature. The mortals struggled onwards.

Juliet took a moment to look over the mountain range into the land of Skyrim. She was mildly surprised to see her first image of Skyrim was an impressive pine forest, long and mighty, stretching off into the distance to what appeared to be a small body of water. She had always assumed Skyrim was a treacherous wasteland of ice and snow, and that no such beauty as the far reaching pines could thrive in such a land.

"Look beyond, it's the Throat of the World, the tallest mountain in all of Tamriel," Goren said, pointing forward, but all that was beyond his hand was the forest, and silhouettes beyond that. His keen eyes gleamed with pride for his homeland. Again the others pause to take in the sights, but only momentarily. Their eyes averted to a nearby fort, and they knew it to be their destination. The powerful carvings of stone reached out like darks hands of the mountain. Still, it was far off, and there was more to climb.

They climbed further down until they found a foot trodden path through the mountains and trekked along until they could smell grog and see the blood in the snow. The fort was in ruins, ripped open like a gutted boar at one side, and the walls were cracked all elsewhere. The fort's name was long forgotten and it had a great over sight of the main path from Cyrodiil to Skyrim. Within the gutted fort's maw could be seen an Orc, sitting on the seat made for the Imperial Command that once occupied it. His jaw seemed to be split in half and along the right side of his face the deep gray-green flesh was scarred and some was even gone entirely. His fangs pierce through his lower lip, and his skin was peeled along his shoulders and neck. He wore the pelt of a troll over his abdomen and upper legs, fastened together with bones and strips of leather and flesh sewn in.

"What do we have this time, peons?" The Orc demanded in a guttural voice. Ten fur and leather clad bandits were about, and two opened a chest before the greedy chief, revealing mounds of gold, dotted with diamonds, and jewelry draped about into a massive treasure chest full of it. Of the ten was a Khajiit in shabby armor, who tenderly reached towards the chest, but his clawed hand was slapped back by another bandit. The Orc raised his head.

"Trespassers in my outpost."

Juliet hesitated, but the Nord ally pressed forward with a confident grin, determined to get his ring back. He looked around.

"You have something of mine and it would be most gracious of you to give it back."

The bandits gave the Nord harsh and gravelly laughter, as though the frost of the mountains itself was a part of their throats. Emero was still with unease, his gaze swept back and forth and he stood, sharp and rigid, seeing that the odds were not in his favor. His elven instincts were telling him how foolish this was, he should have found an equalizer or an advantage of some sort, but he knew that was not an option now. There was no chance for him to share his thoughts.

Shnagri's worried though were quite the opposite. Her blood boiled for the call of Malacath, to lead her in a glorious battle that would be the subject of song and poetry. She huffed a deep sigh. She was ready.

Goren stepped one more step forward, as Emero drew his scimitars and stood firmly. Shnagri lifted her orcish ax from its and tattered belt loop, and Juliet raised her blade and her weathered shield. Goren hands took hold of the hilt of his his steel great sword and he lifted it from its sturdy leather sheath and he held it forward. The wind blew against them as the stand down was silent.

The Orc lowered his head again, snapped his disfigured fingers, and the bandits drew their weapons all at once all at once, seven charged forward with the fury of wild beasts, while three held back, two with bows, one with throwing knives. The fastest bandit realized not his speed and had run forward alone; promptly his head was carved into by Shnagri's brutal weapon. More rushed forward, and the two groups clashed. Emero quickly ducked as two bandits came for him at either side; below them he ducked and rolled forward, slashing into their heels, before coming forward and impaling one with his other scimitar. He drove both weapons then into the bandits he had immobilized, and left them there to bleed as he burned the third one he has impaled, now turning her face into ash as he hit her in the face with a fireball.

Hulking forward, a large bandit bashed his hammer into the orc. Her armor chipped at the shoulder she stumbled back. She paused for barely a second, eyes lighting up with fury, Shnagri held her weapon high and swept forward in a rage of bestial fury. He weapon swung down, and chopped off the bandit's hand at the forearm. His hand flailed about, still gripping to his hammer, but with only one arm it came down soon, and she hacked off his head. She smelled the blood on her, and her stomach turned. Shangri cringed and she looked up. This had been Malacath's intent; her heart would grow dark as the wind blew cold. In her moment of sorrowful wonder, an arrow struck her in the back.

The archers congratulated themselves, but all too late, as the closest was sprayed with blood. Beside their knife throwing ally was decapitated, and his head fell onto the snow. His body soon followed, but not before Goren leapt over it and ran at the two archers, yelling a wild battle cry. They ran. As Juliet attempted to corner the two, she came forth again. She ran between them, and her shield slam into one of their heads, Goren came towards them, and as she turned away he finished them off. She began to move towards Emero, but before she could even spot him a large green fist slammed into her tan face.

The sailor spun and tried to reach for her broken and bleeding nose, but both her hands were occupied. She lifted her head as blood poured down all over her chainmail and her vest, down over her lips from her nose. She stumbled about, as Goren ran at the beast of a Orc. The bandit chieftain merely ducked under blade, and his elbow lifted up, striking the Nord under the chin and making him double back. Emero went for a sneak attack as Goren kept him busy, coming back after him with the claymore held high. His glass scimitars weren't faltered in the slightest by the Orc's bone pouldrons or armor, and he carved through them to the calloused, peeled flesh of the sturdy orc. Blood spurted onto both Goren and Emero as the Orc gave a furious cry in pain. He turned and the hilt of his club slammed into Emero's unprotected face, sending him to the ground, then he slammed into Goren with his jagged and broken pauldron, finally sending him down too.

The Orc turned back again as Shnagri slashed at him. He blocked with his club. Amused by the womer's attack, he gave a slight chuckle as she went to swing again. He caught her wrist and his knee lifted, striking her gut. He looked her dead in the eyes with a smile and threw her onto the snow, "No one bests a _true_ orc."

Juliet stood as her ally fell. Her mouth caked in blood and her shoulders hunched forward. The orc's eyes darted to her. As she ran forward, he swung his club towards her chest. Juliet side stepped, her shield up, and she swiftly moved behind him. Her foot lifted, and she snapped his knee from behind. As he fell forward, sent hurling down quickly by fault of his own weight, Juliet carefully stepped towards him again.

"You are a coward." She drove her blade down into his heart, then drew it back out again. She shook the blade a bit, sending the thick droplets flying into the snow. She sheathed her blade and looked around. Bodies, strewn all over the ground, but one stood, a Khajiit. Slowly she walked towards the beast man, eying him critically and curiously.

Her friends slowly began to rise, seeing Juliet still standing, caked in blood. Goren got to his feet quickly, seeing the Khajiit, "That milk drinking cat has my family's ring!" The Nord, in a fit of anger, charged towards the Khajiit, leaving his sword behind as the little bandit ran.

"Goren!" She exclaimed, and then ran after them. Emero barely was able to grab his journal and his scimitars and follow the chase as well, stumbling at first, before he began to run, as Shnagri passed him.

Goren pressed into the dark corridors of the fort, chasing the Khajiit down into the depths. Deep into the darkness, the familiar Imperial architecture became cruder and primitive, the walls gave way to forgotten halls and cave like passages. Juliet slowed and soon her gate was barely faster than a tip toe.

"By the gods…"

Her voice was faint, and she stood, amazed by the craftsmanship of the Nordic ancient people. The carvings of dragon heads and of the coffins themselves were a marvel to her. The hall was littered with the dead bodies of draugr. Juliet kneeled down at the first sight of one "What the…"

Emero was next to her in a second, he quickly took her shoulder and pulled her back. She looked at him, and quickly he drew his journal and opened it, quickly he wrote onto the page.

_They are the draugr, restless Nord dead who protect these places. Be wary, they are armed._

The woman nodded her little head slightly. She felt disheartened that the bandits must have killed them long before the four showed up. Despite Emero's warnings, she was still fascinated with these draugr. She wanted to know more about the people of Skyrim, their ancient traditions enthralled her.

The tomb was long but held no challenge; the bandits had cleared it out long ago. Finally, they reached a wide room with a long curved wall in the back, carved with many strange symbols. Perched up on top was the Khajiit, and Goren stood in front of the wall, waving his arms back and forth, trying to grab at the Khajiit, "Get down you mangy cat!"

The Khajiit gasped sharply, seeming to take personal offense to the Nord's remark, "How dare you sir! How DARE you insult Sil'Bara the proud pawed! This one believes you should put that sword up somewhere else and get it out of this one's face!" The Khajiit spoke in a tone one could call vain.

Emero prepared a ball of fire, as the womer and the woman were at his side now. The Khajiit, seeing himself cornered, sighed, "Fine, take this then."

The bandit threw the ring off to the side, it bounced along, and Goren quickly chased after it. Emero and Shnagri went to help, but as they were moving Juliet was again distracted by the architecture. She saw the bandit leaving through a passage in the wall, which shut behind a moment later. She rubbed her eyes, and it was as though he was never there. Pausing, she stood a while, then turned and went to her allies.

"Goren did you find it?" Juliet went over as Goren held the ring, smile crept onto his face. "Yes I have it, oh thank you, my small friend!" He scooped her up in his big, muscular arms and gave her a tight bear hug. She gasped, and for a moment the two of them were stuck together, both caked with blood. The Nord smiled and let her down as Juliet coughed lightly.

"Emero, Goren, I saw the bandit run into a secret door that way," Juliet pointed. Shnagri looked over, and walked along past the carved wall. To the far right of it hung a pull chain and the orc grabbed it and tugged it town. The rattling of the chain echoed through the open hall, and as opened a tunnel was shown. The four came forward to it, and began to help each other climb up. Goren, in front, stopped as they reached a large rock slab. With all of them working together, they pushed it forward and it came down, filling the dark tunnel with light.

As the burst of light faded from their eyes and they all were out of the tunnel, they were able to gaze upon a huge pine forest. Shaking the earth worms and the dirt from their hair, they looked about. The pines themselves were bigger than most buildings in Cyrodiil. Healthy green moss grew up the heart bark of the strong trees, and birds sang and flew to and fro. Beasts of the forest roamed freely and peacefully. The bees hummed as a lone bear sat, taking note of the adventurers, but he was already full from the bountiful salmon that swam through the rivers. Emero and Goren were familiar with such sights, but the woman and the womer, they had come from the seas and from the cities. To them, this was magickal.

"Welcome to the Falk." Goren spoke, and he bowed his head to the three of them.

"I must return to my tavern, but I am forever in your debt. If you ever stop by Bruma again, you will always be welcomed to my tavern free of charge."

With that, their Nord friend descended back into the tunnel and sealed it shut once more. The three looked at each other, but soon their eyes diverted upward as a loud roar echoed over the tree tops, and a shadow passed overhead.


	7. Chapter 7

The wind that blew was so much more pure, as if the air itself were virginal, a mystery untouched and unsoiled. The sweet smell of pine and earth hung over them. The light that poured through the canopy above dappled the travelers in pale, yellowy green. At the edge of the foot-trodden road, the three sat upon a fat stone that jutted out from a dried river bed. Juliet craned her neck back, unable to see, and barely able to fathom the tops of the trees. The forests in High Rock were dwarfed by the one that Goren had called the Falk. The elder elf let the two younger take in the sight, as he peered about in search of some form of sustenance. Quickly, his eyes diverted upwards, as the shadow returned, and they heard another thundering roar echo over the pines. The forest became silent after that moment.  
Emero turned his head again. His gaze swept back and forth, as the silence was broken yet again by a heavy sound of whirling gust. Whatever was above was bending the trees, the forest groaned under the power of the wind, and the three adventurers knelt down by the river bed as branches of pine clattered down from above like unsteady arrows.

Shnagri stood, her posture became rigid and her blood heated as she prepared for an unwinnable battle. It was Emero's gaze that went around but a flicker above caught his eyes again. The monster flying by was not ignored by the other two, either, merely the young lass and the orc could not divert their gaze from the canopy. All three look up into the skies at this, only to see a very quick movement of something massive flying overhead again. It was dark, it's massive wings still casting a shadow as it circled over the forest. It seemed almost confused in a way, lost, or scared. As quick as it had come and flown about, it was gone, flying off into the clouds and towards the mountain ranges further north.

Juliet's body trembled, "Emero was that…?" The Altmer gave her a quick look, silently telling her not to say it. She complied, and her voice faded.  
The land for a moment seemed immensely larger to Juliet, the trees wider and taller, the light more pure. She shut her eyes, and then continued back along the path with her travelling companions. They went through the forest, looking for a pass or path to the nearest hold. Juliet averted her eyes a moment to Shnagri, who seemed to be having some difficulties keeping her helmet on straight. It was something odd that Juliet caught, but the orc hadn't said anything about it, and they had more pressing matters to be pay mind to. She turned her head again, looking at the old elf now, and she saw he was looking over the area, assessing its wild features with a sharp gaze. The mosses that clung to old gnarled barks and that hung from the sturdy branches that were thick and in many dulling tones, those branches waved the pale green and yellow flags of new-born autumn, and the sad song of crunching leaves rung clear and crisp under the weathered boots of the three.

For a while she watched him before it occurred to her that he was looking for that lost little bandit, the Khajiit. Perhaps to ring his throat, Juliet thought for a moment, and the thought drifted there in her head for a moment before skipping off and she paid attention to her footing once more, and the roots and the trees. A clearing ahead caught her eyes and she ran ahead with not a feeling of fear in the slightest. A slight rumble and clanking she could hear as she went out into the road. She approached the tree line and saw a glinting shine in the light of the sun, nine in red and shining steel armor were marching two lines, four soldiers each walking parallel and one woman walked as their leader. Their shields in their left hands as a sword along their right hips, they were organized. Juliet smiled.  
The Imperial line was marching off and it looked as if they were coming out of the Falk heading off north or maybe eastways. The two walking in the back beat red and black drums with hide skins as they moved. She could feel the pounding in her heart.

Shnagri and Emero came to her side and they watched the Legionaries march. The lines soon passed and around the bend came thirty more marching. Two by two they came and went until Juliet realized these soldiers knew where they were going, and the three weary travelers did not. A legionary Nord stopped and looked as the Breton came out of the brush, her chainmail swishing as she tugged it loose of brambles then came up to the soldiers. He seemed like a nice enough character. His mane neatly trimmed and beard recently shaven.

"Ah… question?"

The Nord Legionary broke ranks, seeing the young Breton lass approach, "How may the Emperor's men be of service to you today?"

Juliet almost gave a slight chuckle at the eagerness of the Nord legionary. It reminded her of her friend from the arena, and her flustered gaze softened.  
"I was just wondering, where would be the nearest city? 'Been traveling through the mountains and we are—emm… quite tired." With that Shnagri and Emero came forward, and the legionary opened his eyes a might bit wider.

He seems shock to hear where they came from but, he didn't ask. Merely, he gave her a smile and pointed off where they have just come from down the road. "That way is close, leads down to Falkreath. It's small, good place to rest though. No one ever complains about noise there." He gave a harsh laugh, then leaned forward slightly again seeing how quickly the others were passing him by.

"We are making a stop in Whiterun. it's an amazing place- born and raised there myself. You should stop by there if you're staying in Skyrim. You won't regret it," He glanced again to his crowd then took the Breton lass's hand, "I'm Aegan Battle-Born. It's a pleasure to serve you miss…" his smile broadened and he bowed lower.

"Juliet, miss Juliet."  
Emero rolled his eyed, and the legionary faded back into the lines, just another piece of armor heading off north, or eastways.

They had watch a while when the soldiers were finally out of sight and the three stepped fully onto the road.

_To Falkreath._

Emero wrote then held up the journal, looking at her. She gave a quick nod. "We go there and then we can head of to this Whiterun." She spoke eagerly.

Off they went. The sun was descending when they saw the gates of Falkreath down the slope. The three of them came down and around towards the softly glowing lights. Torchbugs flitted this way and that and there was a gurgling sound from the falls and the river untamed.  
"We pray now for the hand of Arkay that Snorri's soul will be guided to the halls of Sovengard, and that we here still might find peace in his passing on." A man in plain brown robes stood down below and they could hear his gently voice as they came down towards the light. He was old; his hair was gone from his head and seemed mostly now to reside on his brows and in his ears. A small crowd of people were gathered around a freshly buried grave as the sun was setting and the light drew the shadows out over their faces. A woman on knees was crying as she clutched a bright and shining amulet of Mara. "Why? Why, divines why? Aringard… oh my beloved… oh…" Her sobs were weak and slow and she huddled over and the torch bugs danced around her. The many had their heads bowed as the priest was finishing his prayers for the dead. Three men in the back of the crowd were dressed oddly; chainmail under faded white tartans. Their helmets looked to be of iron, though similar to the design of most town guards, with the exception of horns attached to either side. Their shields were white with a crown in the center of them, unpainted. However the middle one was dressed differently from the other two, wearing a troll pelt rather than the faded white tartan of the others, and his helmet was neither iron nor horned but the maw of a troll.  
The woman stood up abruptly and turned to the beast-clad man, pushing through the crowd of many friends and family, "You! You, you did this- you and this foolish war of yours took my Snorri away from me! _YOU! YOU!_" He said nothing as the woman shrieked at him. The funeral, however, continued.  
Shnagri glanced over to Juliet with a look of unease, and the ladies nodded to each other. Juliet turned her head to Emero, but he had already walked away, and so the two followed after in a rush.

Emero looked about, his eyes studiously observing. He had been here before, but the hold had changed. It seemed to have been rebuilt with larger walls, and stronger gates. Emero went onwards and Falkreath had Legion soldiers stationed here too. The Falk guards were mostly Imperials now and some Nords, a few Redguards even. Emero looked further beyond the gates, noticing a carriage driven and escorted by an Imperial guardsman as well. It was as if the hold was under complete Imperial surveillance. This unsettled him.  
He turned his head as he heard the fast footfalls and his two companions were at his back again. Juliet grinned to him, "You ran off." But no time had he to react, as guards ran and shouted orders the gates opened up and the three were forced to move aside. Juliet's eyes lit up as the clanking boots hit the ground and the figure strode forward. All her life she had heard of the famous (and in some cases, infamous) leaders of the Legion forces. While generals gave orders, the legates fought on the battlefield. The helmet covered his face, but Juliet still found him handsome.

There was no time to be had gawking, though Juliet felt she could have watched that armor shine in the sunset for hours, the three of them felt tired and heavy and there was dinner and drinking to be done. They entered the tavern for some little rest and for some supplies before they made their trip to Whiterun. Inside it was no different than any other tavern, though there were strings of bones and deer skulls on the walls and hanging from the bannisters, it was a cozy place. The fire roared hungrily and happily as a few content and drunken citizens sat about, talking and eating and flirting and such. In the background a bard started her tune as she sat up from her chair.

_"For blood on the snow falls- surely it is stained_

_As red as the Ruby Thrown she now claims!_

_An ode to the empress—Immortal they say,_

_The dragon kin woman, yet dragons she slayed!"_

The bartender looked up from his own mead, seeming saddened by the reflection of his own aged face. He drifted off a moment and his skin wrinkled around his eyes when he opened them again.

"Welcome," He groaned, "what do ye' need? A room, a drink, a meal, maybe some company?" He spoke merry words, but all joy was gone from his face. Emero went and took out septims and handed them to the man as he wrote in his journal.  
_A hot meal and warm rooms._  
The innkeeper was confused for a moment but slowly he nodded, "Go ahead then, but we only have one room left, farthest of the left… the other three are already boarding guests. Hope that's not an issue." Emero looked over to Juliet and Shnagri, nodding to them first, then to the innkeeper. Without a moment to pass he headed off to the room. Juliet sighed, accepting this to meant for them to wait for dinner.

"You're new to Skyrim, aren't you?" The sell sword and the sailor both look over at the innkeeper as he was making them their food, though Shnagri took some time to avert her gaze from the bard. He glanced up from his kettle as he looks over at the Imperials. "They are here to keep the main road up." Slowly Juliet sat down, ad Shnagri as well though with some disinterest. The innkeeper continued and Shnagri returned to the bard's song.

_"She choked the world eater, and slaughtered the beast_

_Then onward to Cyrodiil where a mighty feast_

_Was held in her honor, and there she did take _

_The throne and the empire, for all mankind's sake!"_  
A deepening sad smile the innkeeper held as he spoke his words, "Weren't the Imperials in the last civil war," He said, "in that war it was the union of the Empire and Skyrim, and all manner of rebels. This time it's over an alliance that the Imperials could care less for. The Imperials gain and lose nothing in this conflict. Hopefully not the next either, and they'll forget about us." Juliet became very still and quiet, amazed and saddened too by the carelessness of the Imperials. In her home, the Legion were great allies, and heroes to the peasant folk and merchant folk like herself and her family. Hearing this sorry man, she could not help but feel bitter towards him, yet she pitied him as well. She maintained focus, and listened still.

"This alliance between those Sea Elves and Winterhold don't threaten the Ruby Throne. But the High King seated in Solitude is a bit worried, and not just because of this war."  
He looked up again, seeing the confused looks on the woman and the womer in front of him, he continued.

"The jarls of Whiterun, Markarth and Winterhold have been talking about how they deserve to be High King and the Capital, haughty talk… lord talk." He began to pour the hot venison stew into bowls. "Falkreath has been order by the Emperor to stay neutral, so trade is still able to get into Skyrim from Cyrodiil."

Emero came out from the room and to the counter, when the bowls were full and his companions were eating he sat to take his dinner. Juliet yawned when the innkeeper spoke no more and she stood when the stew bowl was empty. Quietly, Shnagri did too, knowing her place to be at this lass's side for now, and the two went off to rest for the night. When the two of them were gone Emero glanced over at some of the Nords in the room but he noticed three glaring his way. His eyes lowed again to his bowl, and the lot of them gave him no trouble.  
Emero was up soon and out the door, to walk out to the gurgling river in a moment and watch as the night would pass on. He didn't need the sleep, he didn't want it either. Back and forth he looked to make sure he was in total seclusion, before slipping off his clothes and such, and getting into the cold water to bath. It chilled him and caused him much discomfort, but being filthy was even worse. He was happy to wash even if the water did feel more like ice.  
Dreamer Juliet lay in her bed as Shnagri sat in the pelt lined chair and dosed off at her side. It was nice to be in a warm bed finally, but still they knew that for tomorrow they would need as much rest as they could get. The trek to Whiterun would be long and hopefully they could get between there and Windhelm before they had to stop and rest again.  
When he was clean and dressed Emero took out his journal as he sat upon a flat stone. The void black of ink danced across his paper, as he wrote of his journey, and his memories. The walls, he thought, must have been rebuilt after he left. For once many years ago, when he was here last, a blaze took much of the city. He remembered a little girl there, and her mother he was able to save, and he wondered if they were still out there. He hoped they were safe.

A sigh would have escape his lips, but he just turned and left as he went back to the tavern and he sat as the night went off over the mountains. He watched both moons leave the sky out the window as soon they were replaced with the shining sun, the morning frost was quickly melted away into the dew.  
Shnagri was awake then and she went out from the room. The orc looked over at Emero, and gave a small grunt of greeting, averting her eyes quickly. Emero nodded in response. Together the two ordered breakfast and they ate a quick meal, Juliet joined them too, and they were silent. Juliet felt uneasy in this silence, as perhaps any Breton would.

When the unsettling breakfast was over, Juliet had hoped to see the Jarl of this hold, but she knew she wouldn't get that chance. After breakfast the three of them got their things together, and then headed out of the inn silently as they had come.

Emero blinked when they were past the gates and looked around as though he had just realized they were leaving. He quickly wrote down in his journal and showed it to then, walking a bit ahead so they could see without stopping.

_We will move up to Helgen, to Riverwood, then to Whiterun._

Juliet nodded but furrowed her brows to his knowledge of the route. Being of the curious sort, she was desperate to question him, yet she held her tongue, seeing that something was off about Emero today.  
They went off down the road, leaving the Falk behind the pines and the sweet smell of the cooking syrups and breads. When they has moved further up the road they saw a small group of soldiers there, but Emero quickened his pace past them and so the other two followed. More and more questions filled Juliet's mind as Emero didn't make any eye contact with any of soldiers as moved faster until they were out of sight once again.  
The roads were quiet with only the sounds of the forest and their footfalls in the early morning. Juliet couldn't take it anymore.

"Emero are you alright? You seem off since we started this trip." For a moment he paused and looked at her, then he lowered his gaze to the ground, shut his head and shook his eyes, giving her a reassuring smile, then again he went on forward and Juliet's heart sunk. They continued on.

When the sun was high they came upon the great fort Helgen. On the side of the fort were Imperials and Nords drinking and smiling at them while Emero kept his hood up. Onward they went, stopping only for food. Not far though when they stopped Juliet however noticed a big-voiced Nord in red armor yelling at the Imperial general, and so too did the others, but paid no mind as they ate. Juliet couldn't help but eavesdrop. "General Manlius, will you just sit here as we tear each other apart? Is this what your Emperor _wants_? We barely kept Morthal at the Battle of the Bog, and Solitude was nearly invaded- do you know what that means, Manlius? _Do you?_" The Imperial actually seemed quite annoyed with the Nord, but kept a straight face, "General Blodwulf, I understand that you are desperate, but don't you dare insult my Emperor, and yours I may add. The Jarl of Winterhold hasn't asked for assistance from their allies and neither should you."  
They kept fighting, but the yelling dissipated after the three finished their lunch and walked off towards the road again. Juliet felt heavy with concern. It would seem that Skyrim was dangerous of course, with its bears and bandits, but how would they fare against these well trained soldiers, she wondered, if troubled would arise. Emero looked to her, and wrote in his journal, then raised it up and showed her what he wrote.  
_It is alright. The war is not near the route we are taking. The battles are in the Reach and Eastmarch._  
Juliet was a bit calmer but she had no clue where the Reach or Eastmarch were, only ports along the coasts in Skyrim, and they held neither. She had heard scary stories of the men in the mountains in the east in High Rock, and that on the other side those men were wild and evil, and the called themselves reachmen. It unsettled her something fierce, but she was happy they would not be headed that way.

The road northways was peaceful for the most part; she got a bit anxious when they saw a few bandits in a camp watching them, but luck have it that they weren't looking for a fight that day. The group of three went onwards soon saw the mill town of Riverwood. It had grown since last Emero saw it, yet cheery still it was, and that made him feel light. A few Nords gave the travelers warm smiles, or exchanged uneasy stares, as they carried on with their lives when the travelers went by. Juliet noticed the local guards were more outfitted for war than a bandit raids, their armor was much like the soldiers.  
Emero looked at the village, and then much to the other twos' surprise the elder Altmer walk down off the road and he walk into the river. A slight shiver ran up his spine but he proceeded to cross the rushing river holding their supplies over his head. As he walk a few tows folk gave him a quizzical look as he made it across. He glanced over at his friends when he stood soaking on the other side, then away again he looked as he started to build a fire and he got his pot out of his knapsack. Juliet with a sigh walked off and around to the bridge then over to her elven friend. The orc followed as always she did.  
When they arrived Emero was cooking of Hammerfell spices and Valenwood herbs, sweet and hot and mystical was the air around the fire and the sellsword and the sailor were lulled into sitting immediately. Emero golden eyes glanced over see Juliet with her sword of ancient dragon's bone. Her chainmail was removed, she was only in her normal vest and tunic then that looked more fitting on a sailor out in the seas than a Breton training with a sword. Despite this look he knew her to be elegant with the blade. He noted how she seemed train with her fighting. As he watched her sitting there with her eyes fixated on the food and his eyes fixated on her he wondered where she had learned all this. Certainly not at home, he knew her to be a sailor from a family of village folk. At least that is what he figured. Emero wondered who train her.  
Emero paused then waved over for Shnagri and he moved over so that she could sit beside him. He took her hands and places it on the wooden spoon he has been using. He could tell she did not like being touched, but he ignored it. He felt this lesson was valuable enough. He made her stir a bit before he removed his hand from hers and he stood, leaving the orc to stir the food. She was uncomfortable, clearly, but as she stirred the more her confidence she rose and she removed her helmet to smell and to watch the cooking food.  
By this time Juliet had come over to the trees and was spinning, making powerful thrusts with the blade as she stabbed the rotting tree that hung half over the river. She spun again, but her sword connected with a glass scimitar. She quickly snapped out of her day dream of killing Thalmor, and looked at her elven ally. She looked at the Altmer as he swung his sword, but she easily blocked, even without watching his blade. He smirked as he spun, knocking her sword away. When he as came forward again, elegantly his scimitar went to her throat. She was shocked at this; her cockiness just cost this round. She was proud of her technique and her learning, she had no reason not to be, but for that pride got in the way of her fighting. Not counting the Thalmor who had weakened and tortured and starved her, no one had really met her in skill that she met and fought with blade and shield.  
She felt embarrassed for a moment, but seeing Emero's smirk lit up a fire and her and she began again to smile too. Moving quickly away and swinging, first he easily blocked. Then she swung her sword with such fury he had to step back, but Emero's movements were quicker than hers and more graceful. He knew it all, he'd lived through years of battle, yet this young creature still impressed him for her skill. Shnagri was watching then do battle, and she was amazed at both of their skills. She assumed that the elf was more powerful that the Breton, for all his years to learn and practice, but they both had speed and power, just working for them in different ways.  
Shnagri look down and she saw that the stew was done. As she poured their dinner into bowls she saw they were moving towards a tree that had fallen not too long ago. It was fresh and green, and she thought perhaps a storm had knocked it down. Emero went for a power thrust but Juliet dodged it. She was faster without her sturdy shield, but did not fare nearly as well without it. She ran over the other side of the log and he followed her. Coming over to the other side he furrowed his brows. Not seeing her there, he turned his head back and forth and but the look up as he saw a green and brown blur come down, the old Altmer fell. When he hit the ground he attempted again to stand but the blade of bone was at his face, "I win Emero." He said nothing because he couldn't speak, but a smile spread across his face and spoke for him all that he needed to.  
They came back over together to the fire and ate happily. Shnagri felt a rush of fighting, but kept it in check. Still, she moved uncomfortably. Emero either didn't notice or ignored it, Juliet couldn't tell, but she was a bit concerned for her orc friend. When she asked if she was alright, all she got was a grunt and a nod. When dinner was done and the fire was out they got themselves packed up again and headed further up the road again. The sun was setting soon and shadows came along once more, but there were still two or three hours of daylight to burn.


End file.
